We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball
by Don E. Delivery
Summary: Harry's attraction to Parvati leads him to take his Yule Ball preparation much more seriously and his night is changed as a result. Includes an awesome Ron, an interesting Parvati and a drunk Katie Bell. Oh, and what's a Yule Ball fic without a little Fleur Delacour?
1. Chapter One

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

_written by Don E. Delivery _

**Brief Summary:**

_Harry's attraction to Parvati leads him to take his Yule Ball preparation much more seriously and his night is changed as a result. Includes an awesome Ron, an interesting Parvati and a drunk Katie Bell._

**Author's Note to Readers:**_  
><em>

_This is a story I started back in 2011, and most people have assumed abandoned since 2012. Surprise! It's not. I've gone back through and fixed any mistakes I've noticed, and plan to finish this up by Christmas of this calendar year. It was a hell of a lot of fun writing back then, and I'm looking forward to its_ completion.

**Genre(s):**

_Humor/Romance_

**Chapter One**

In the week before the big occasion, Harry had gone through the trouble of acquiring beautiful Yule Ball dates for both himself and his best friend, taken an extra hour and a half to learn the steps for the ridiculously complex dance he was obligated to open the night with, and congregated with the few upperclassmen he knew in order to purchase alcoholic beverages for the evening. Furthermore, he had transfigured a series of tables, chairs, couches and a rather elaborate and unnecessary fountain in an empty classroom near (but not too near) Gryffindor tower, stocked it full of food and drinks, and he made sure that the few upperclassmen he knew would be there after the Ball.

Now, an hour before the Ball was to commence, he eyed himself in the only free mirror in Gryffindor tower, trying to ignore the complaints of most of his fourth year roommates. With the exception of Seamus, who looked more than a bit pissed already and was sure to make a fool of himself later, Harry was the only one of the five boys who had been looking forward to the Ball. He straightened his robes and ran a hand through his wild raven hair.

He had to admit that his green dress robes made him look much older than he was, and considering his plans for the evening, that was a definite plus. Feeling slightly foolish but more than a little giddy, he strutted in front of the full-length mirror, pondering how he should make an entrance with Parvati at his side. After a moments thought he decided to just wing it. He had bigger fish to fry.

"You're sure you don't know who Hermione is taking to the Ball, Harry?" came Ron's voice from the showers. "You know you can tell me. I'll still act surprised and all."

Ignoring his best friend Harry instead winked at Neville, who was looking more than a little green around the gills and bid a farewell to the rest of the room. Dean looked up from the nearest sink where he was struggling to stop the blood that was steadily pouring from his now hairless chin.

"Are you heading down now?" he queried. We've still got an hour before it starts. What's the hurry?"

Harry grinned, and then winced after seeing how badly Dean's chin was cut. Feeling cheeky he said, "I don't want to cut it too close, Dean. I'll see you all in a bit."

He shut the door before Dean's bloody rag could hit him, hurried down the stairs and then stopped at the bottom, walking leisurely into the common room. Many of the underclassmen were present, with only the female population looking bothered that they were missing out on the Ball. From across the room Harry spotted Fred and George talking quietly to Lee Jordan, all three of them dressed to impress and sporting the same mischievous grins. Having a few minutes to kill, he stood nearby, trying to overhear their conversation.

"Yeah, but Angelina won't go for that," whispered George, shaking his head. "Her dad worked in a Muggle beer factory and drank like mad. I can hardly get away with a swig of Butterbeer after Quidditch games." Fred made a whipping motion with one hand and Lee laughed accordingly.

"Yeah," Lee said, "Alicia is kind of a homebody too. Her mom caught her drinking last summer and grounded her for the rest of the break. Since she's going to see Hollyhead over the Winter break she doesn't want to risk it. She said she's definitely coming to the party though."

Fred shrugged. "Katie drinks like a fish. You remember when she drank that whole bottle of wine and then we bet her she wouldn't fly off the Astronomy tower?" George and Lee nodded, laughing. "We thought she fell off her broom! Turns out she dove straight down, flew back around to Trelawney's quarters, spelled the window open and came back swigging sherry!"

The boys cracked up; even more so when Katie walked down the stairs a moment later dressed in periwinkle blue and carrying a handbag that looked suspiciously bulky.

"What's up, chumps," she asked, slurring her words noticeably. "You guys ready for the party?"

"Shouldn't we go to the ball first?" asked Lee, trying and failing to contain a smile.

"Ball, schmall," she said, reaching in her handbag. "Harry said there would be alcohol."

Harry chose that moment to make his presence known. "Now where did you hear that? I certainly didn't go out and buy any alcohol."

The four Gryffindors turned to him all smiles. Katie giggled. "I must be getting drunk; Harry is looking ripe for the fucking." Everyone gasped, and then all the color drained from her face. "I meant ripe for the plucking!"

The boys cracked up again, and Harry did his best to refrain from blushing. He had certainly harboured those same thoughts about Katie Bell, but he didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her that. Instead he thanked her for the interest and wished them all a good evening. As he left, she told him to save her a dance, and he promised he would, causing the boys to laugh once more.

Shaking his head, he crossed the room to stand near the girls' dorms. He wanted to greet Parvati as soon as she came down the stairs in order to make the best impression possible. The fact that he got to be the first man to see each of the other girls sashay down the stairs was just an added bonus.

Seven girls later and fifteen minutes before the ball was scheduled to start, Parvati crossed the threshold, looking magnificent in very fancy golden robes. Just enough of her long tanned legs were showing and quite a bit of her chest was visible as well; he felt an enormous surge of pride that he was taking the best looking girl in his year to his very first dance.

She smiled at him as she walked down the stairs, taking care not to trip and ruin the evening before it had even started; he held an arm out for her and helped her down the last few steps, twirling her slowly once she had reached the bottom.

"How do I look?" she asked, her brown eyes looking for assurance. "Worthy of a champion?"

"You look amazing," he breathed, completely sincere. "Nobody will even notice I've entered the room."

She blushed and her long eyelashes fluttered, causing his heart to skip maddeningly. "You're so sweet, Harry," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "Are you ready to go? Or would you like to wait for Ron? Or," and this she said with more than slight distaste, "Hermione?"

Smiling and ignoring her obvious jealousy, he shook his head in the negative. "No, no. I think they can find their way to the Great Hall by themselves. Shall we?"

Her smile brightened noticeably and he inwardly pat himself on the back. "Yes, we shall," she intoned, before suddenly changing her mind. "Well, maybe we should wait for Ron. After all, he should be meeting my sister just outside the Hall. That way we can all walk in together."

Harry just nodded and turned to look at the entrance to the boys' dorms. For a few minutes they chatted quietly, Harry enjoying the chance to talk to a girl he had surprisingly little contact with most of the year. He made sure to look her in the eye every chance he got, and only look down at her bosom when it was prudent; he also made sure that she caught him looking at least once. Everything was going splendidly when Ron finally made his way downstairs, causing the majority of the conversation around the common room, including Harry and Parvati's, to drop to a hush.

Harry struggled not to laugh as his friend walked stiffly towards him, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Luckily Harry had seen Ron's robes beforehand or he probably would have laughed; in fact, most of the common room had openly jeered Ron when he walked out. Instead, Harry noted the reddening of Ron's ears and took pity on his friend, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him aside before he could make a fool of himself.

"I look bloody awful," he said, summing up everyone else's thoughts on his dress. "My Uncle was married in this thing half a century ago; there's a picture of it in our living room. And it looked terrible then!"

Harry smiled, trying to cheer his friend up. "Hey, look on the bright side. At least you have a pretty date; you could do much worse than one of the best looking girls in the school. Nobody really cares what you look like."

Ron grimaced. "I do, Harry! Not only will I look like a laughing stock in front of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be there too! Look at the leetle English wizard," he said in a dreadful impression of the French accent. "Oui, Oui; Bonjour!"

Noting that Ron was drawing contemptuous looks from one seventh year who had brought his French date to the tower, Harry tried a different tact. Frowning heavily he grabbed Ron by the arm and steered him away from Parvati.

"Look, Ron. I'm not going to play games with you. Your dress robes look bloody awful; that, and you kind of smell like old feet. But if you're going to act like this all night then you might as well stay in your bloody tower like Professor Trelawney! There's a knockout waiting for you outside the hall right now, and all you have to do is be a wizard and walk out there, apologize for your terrible dress robes and act like you have a bit of sense!"

Ron looked like he wanted to object so Harry punched him in the arm, hard. "I don't want to hear it! Look at Fred and George," he said, pointing towards Ron's older brothers and their two very good looking Chaser girlfriends. "Do you think they would be moaning about their dress robes? If anything they would make a joke out of it all." Ron was rubbing his arm, but he did look to be listening so Harry took a deep breath and calmed down. "I want to have a good night tonight, and I want you to do the same. Okay?" When Ron didn't answer he balled up his fist like he was going to hit him again.

"Okay!" he said, jumping away. "Just don't hit me anymore; you already frogged me!"

Harry ignored him and smoothed out his robes, turning back towards Parvati, who was watching them with a bemused expression on her lovely face. "When you see Padma, compliment her and make sure you say you're sorry your robes look bad. Make sure you dance with her -" he continued, raising his voice over Ron's complaints, "-and don't complain! Just act like everything is normal and be yourself. Have some fun!"

Ron was still grimacing but he did nod in agreement. Harry figured that was the best he was going to get out of his best friend, so he took Parvati's arm once more and the three of them made their way out of the common room, Ron dragging behind them.

The trio of Gryffindors made their way slowly through Hogwarts towards the Great Hall; Ron hoping to put off his meeting with Padma as long as possible, Parvati taking time to comment on every student and dress that she passed, and Harry enjoying the feel of Parvati against his arm enough that he was in no hurry to lose it. In fact, their arms stayed loosely entwined the entire walk to the hall.

However, upon reaching the entrance, Parvati leapt from Harry's side and hugged her twin sister soundly, both of them squealing loudly and talking over each other trying to compliment the other. Ron was attempting and failing to hide behind Harry; he was both taller and wider than his friend and wearing eye-catching robes to boot. Eventually Padma turned her attention to her date, and though she looked less than impressed she reigned in her disgust enough to at least greet him pleasantly.

Ron pulled at the ruffles around his neck and cleared his throat. He looked at Harry imploringly but Harry deliberately paid him no mind; instead, he grasped Parvati's hand and lead her towards the door to the Great Hall. However, he paused at the door in order to hear what Ron was going to say.

"Er, Padma. You look..." he swallowed audibly. "You look very nice this evening. Thank you for... well, you know... agreeing to come with me. And uh, sorry I look so terrible and you look so nice." He was starting to babble, but Harry smiled. At least he made the effort.

Harry chanced a chaste glance back at the couple and his smile grew; Ron was holding a blushing Padma's hand and looking a lot more confident. Apparently, Harry's pep talk had invoked some Gryffindor courage in his best friend.

"Are you ready to walk in?" asked Parvati, drawing his attention once more. "I think it's almost time for the ball to start."

Harry nodded, patted his hair down and straightened himself. He was ready.

"Let's do it," he said, and pushed open the door.

He made his way into the hall slowly, making sure that everyone noticed his entrance. He walked with Parvati quite close to him and did his best to ignore everyone else, instead talking quietly to his date as they walked.

"Look to your right; but not too quickly!" he said when Parvati turned. "Hagrid came with Madame Maxime!" He laughed happily. "She looks quite nice, but I think he had to hunt down and clean that coat he's wearing."

Parvati smiled next to him, and she loosened her grip on his arm. He sighed in relief; she had been cutting off his circulation. "Oh, and there's Ginny and Neville," she said, sounding amused. "Ginny looks great; I hope Ron doesn't make a scene considering how much leg she's showing."

Harry rather hoped that his friend wouldn't make a scene, though he suspected that when Hermione entered there would be harsh words. He didn't voice these concerns, however. "Neville looks like he might be sick," said Harry. "But at least they're both smiling."

Parvati nodded. By now they had made their way into the mass of students standing in the hall, and the majority of the looks in Harry and Parvati's direction had died off; Cedric and Cho were now receiving the brunt of it all. Rather than feel the sharp pangs of jealousy he had expected, he was surprised to find that he was happy for the couple; besides, he could hardly go wrong with Parvati, and if he did, she was less likely to throw a hex that he couldn't defend against.

In the past, he had rarely been comfortable being the center of attention, but it helped that he had an awesome reason to be. He was doing well in the competition thus far, his popularity was on the rise, his grades were rising (especially considering he could skip out on almost any class if he had a good excuse) and he could easily do spell work that sixth years were struggling with. All in all, he had no reason to complain about a couple hundred people watching him.

Still, he didn't want his limited success to go to his head. He was well aware how quickly the tides could turn and how awful things could become in the meantime. It certainly wouldn't do to strut around Hogwarts assuming that he was going to be respected. He would be ashamed to draw any comparisons to Malfoy or Eddie Carmichael; Harry tried to ignore the 6th year Ravenclaw who was staring lecherously at Parvati even though he had been told off by Padma earlier that year for doing the same thing. As much as he wanted to knock the prick on his ass in front of Hogwarts he knew that it would be more trouble than anything else.

Draco was steadfastly ignoring his date, Pansy Parkinson, in favor of making faces at Harry's back; rather than finding it annoying, Harry laughed and turned his attention back to Parvati. "Malfoy's being his usual self. Pansy actually looks nice tonight and he's checking me out. If he didn't hate me so much I'd think he has a crush on me." When Parvati snorted he smiled. He was starting to enjoy himself. "You wanna rile him up a bit?"

She nodded, and taking advantage of the fact that almost everyone else's attention was on Fleur and her date Roger Davies, he leaned in close to Parvati and planted a lingering kiss on her plump red lips. He felt rather than heard her surprise but he was satisfied when she responded in kind, wrapping her slim arms around his shoulders and opening her mouth just enough for him to seek hesistant entrance. For a moment they were lost in the kiss, two teenagers capitalizing on their hormones.

And then Dumbledore was clapping his hands, the sound reverberating around the hall and drawing the attention of almost everyone present. Harry licked his lips and opened his eyes, finding that Parvati's face looked much the way he expected his own did; her eyelashes fluttered and she smiled at him in a way like no girl had ever before. Dumbledore had been talking a while before he reluctantly turned away from Parvati and began to listen to the wizened old wizard, all the while struggling to calm his racing heart.

"If Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang could leave the dance floor, please." He waited a few moments for the other students to clear out, and then continued. "Now, if our four Triwizard champions could make their way to the center of the floor we will start the ball with its traditional dance."

Harry took a deep breath and grabbed Parvati's hand, leading her towards the center. Almost immediately he noted that Hermione was joining him on the floor, and he felt a momentary jolt of surprise when he noticed her date. Viktor and Hermione swept onto the floor quickly and quietly; the former looking down at his feet and the latter gracing Harry with a beautific smile which Harry returned gradually, still more than a little confused, not to mention impressed, at how she snagged Durmstrang's most eligible bachelor. He shrugged and decided she must have caught him in the library; she was the smartest girl in Hogwarts after all. He dreaded Ron's reaction, but could spare it no more thought; Fleur, Roger, Cho and Cedric had joined them on the floor, and the band for the night, the wildly popular Weird Sisters, looked ready to start up the first song.

"Good luck, Harry," Parvati whispered, looking up at him and grinning mischeviously. He returned her sentiment and concentrated on the steps he had learned a few nights before.

Once the Sisters had struck up a steady beat, Harry and the other male champions began leading their female counterparts; likewise Roger tried to maneuver Fleur around the floor, although she certainly seemed to be the one in control. Parvati watched Harry as they moved, a small smile on her face, and Harry spared her as many glances as he could without massacaring the admittedly difficult dance. By the time the dance was finished his forehead was starting to sweat, but he ignored it, instead applauding the band along with the others.

Dumbledore stood once more and asked the champions to join him at the high table, encouraging the other students to sit down. He demonstrated the way to place a food order, drawing the laughter of most of the hall when a large tuna popped into being just in front of him and landed softly on his plate. Even Harry struggled not to laugh when McGonagall licked her lips eyeing the massive fish; she was known to enjoy fish with most of her meals, and he assumed her inner cat was growling for the seafood.

Parvati and Harry seated themselves on the opposite side of Dumbledore and Barty Crouch, Sr., who had brought an altogether too pleased with himself Percy Weasley. Luckily, Harry was able to sit next to Hermione, and once the students began eating, the three of them struck up an easy conversation.

"So, how did you meet Viktor?" Parvati asked, just as curious as Harry. "I have to admit I'm surprised you knew him at all."

Hermione smiled easily, showing her remarkably straight teeth. "Well, I met him in the library," she said, confirming Harry's suspicions. "He asked me for help finding a book on dragons. It took a while, but I found him a first edition that was written in German. He plays for the Bulgarian national team, but he was actually born in Hamburg. Isn't that right, Viktor?"

Viktor nodded, looking as though he was paying more attention to Hermione's lips moving than the words she was actually saying. "Yes. In Hamburg," he said decisively, before turning back to his meal.

Hermione smiled patronizingly at him and continued. "He's really good at English for the amount of time he's been learning. I've been trying to help him, but it's been difficult to say the least. He already speaks German, Bulgarian, Russian and French, but he says that English has been really hard for him. Luckily, I can speak enough French to get by..."

She continued to talk for a while about Viktor, even giving Parvati a rather long summary of Viktor's Quidditch exploits to which Viktor added, when prodded, "Yes. I like Quidditch much." Harry smiled and nodded when spoken to, but turned most of his attention to his food (Prime Rib with scalloped potatoes) and the various students in the hall. He paid extra attention to Ron, who seemed to genuinely care about his conversation with Padma. It looked to him like Padma was enjoying herself so Harry mentally congratulated his best friend. The only thing that concerned Harry was the jealous look he saw Ron shoot Hermione and Viktor when Padma wasn't looking. Harry decided that he had to nip that in the bud before the situation deteriorated.

After a while the clinking of plates and glasses started to die off and there was a sudden buzz of anticipation about the place. Most of the students looked excitedly at Dumbledore, waiting for their chance to join the dance floor. The venerable Headmaster did not disappoint; after another couple of minutes he thanked the Hogwarts elves for the lovely meal, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang for joining them at Hogwarts and the Weird Sisters for agreeing to provide music for the evening. Then, to the joy of the mass of students standing near the dance floor, he swung his wand and revealed the Sisters, who immediately began to play, causing a near riot as all three schools' students struggled to get near the stage.

Harry turned to Parvati, who looked as though she'd like to join the crowd, and he offered his hand. When she took it, he said over the squeals of delight coming from the students, "Would you like to dance?"

Parvati smiled. "With you? I'd love to!" She stood up and nearly dragged him out of his seat, drawing a laugh from Hermione. "Come on lover boy, let's dance!"

Harry followed her dutifully, putting on a brave face and diving into the crowd behind her, hoping that she wouldn't want to dance all night. Still, it looked like a lot of fun and the band sounded great, and he thought she looked beautiful...

He decided to take his own advice, given to Ron earlier that evening. He promised himself he wouldn't complain; after all, this evening was turning out exactly as he planned. He couldn't wait for the party later, but in the meantime, he'd dance 'til he fell.

* * *

><p>-<em>end of Chapter One-<em>


	2. Chapter Two

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Two**

As a kid in the Dursley household, Harry had never had the chance to appreciate good music; before the evening of the Yule Ball he had only had the privelege of listening to the Wizarding Wireless at the Weasley's house the previous summer and, of course, the blaring radio coming from Dudley's room when Vernon and Petunia left the two of them at home alone. He had immediately taken a dislike to everything Dudley had enjoyed, determinedly ignoring anything that his cousin considered relevant. However, despite his limited experience, he decided that he quite liked the Weird Sisters' concert.

It helped that Parvati knew many of their songs by heart. He also knew it was important to show interest in things that she liked. Most of the school was bouncing around him as the band played, belting out the lyrics in time with the lead singer, and both he and Parvati were so caught up in the moment that it mattered very little whether his interest was feigned or genuine; as long as he stood close by and kissed her when appropriate, Ron could have taken stage and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.

Speaking of his red-headed best friend, he continued to keep the boy in his sights when he could, making sure that the boy wasn't causing a scene. He and Padma were not standing as close as Harry might have liked, but thus far Ron had kept to his word and given the Indian girl his full attention.

Well, perhaps "full attention" wasn't the right turn of phrase, Harry decided, noticing that Hermione and Viktor had arrived on the dance floor suspiciously close to Ron and that the Bulgarian seeker had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione's waist. Padma was saying something to Ron that he was studiously ignoring; from across the room Harry noted the shadow that passed over Ron's face and immediately moved to intercept him, turning to Parvati and mentioning that he was going to take a quick break. She nodded, still enraptured by the band, and he broke away before she could join him.

He pushed his way through the crowd of students, drawing dirty looks from many of the dancing couples littering the dance floor. He paused only to stare in wonder at Ginny and Neville; to his immense surprise, the nervous boy seemed to be dancing energetically, dragging the increasingly worn out looking girl around the dance floor. Shaking his head and smiling wryly, Harry shot Neville a thumbs up and moved on, catching Ron by the arm just before he could reach Hermione and Viktor.

"Hey!" Ron said, swinging his body around and looking as though he might pummel whoever had just interrupted his determined stride. He deflated slightly when he saw Harry but still spat out, "What are you doing, Harry? Don't you see Vicky putting his grubby hands all over Hermione! I knew this was going to happen. Knew it!"

Harry inwardly sighed, but kept his composure, knowing that his night was all but ruined if Ron reached Hermione. "Wait just a minute, Ron. Where is Padma?"

Ron waved his hand without taking his eyes off Krum. "Who cares? I'm going to beat the shite out of that wanker! He's nothing but trouble, the filthy bugger!" He continued to rant, causing many of the surrounding students to back away from him and Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived took a glance across the dance floor to see Padma headed their way and Harry decided that he had to act quick or the shit was going to hit the proverbial fan.

"Ron," he said, and was unceremoniously ignored. "Ron!"

"What?" the redhead yelled.

"Get a grip, man! There's nothing that confronting Viktor will solve; in fact, you'll probably get whipped! He's got at least a stone on you, Ron. Not to mention the arse-kicking Hermione will give you if you ruin her night." His words seemed to have little effect on his friend so he tried again, a brilliant idea hitting him at just that moment. "Listen. She's only trying to make you jealous!"

That comment seemed to catch his attention where the others had not. "She what?" Ron replied eloquently. "Make me jealous? With Krum?"

Harry smiled. Sometimes it was just too easy. "Yeah! I mean, after everything you talked about Krum being the best in the world after the World Cup? C'mon, Ron, he can't even speak English properly and he lives a thousand miles away in a country filled with veela. Hermione can't possibly be considering a long-distance relationship with him. After the tournament is over he's going back to Durmstrang, graduating, and probably playing Quidditch the rest of his life. Can you see Hermione falling for a," and here he lowered his voice so only Ron could hear, "a _jerk_ like that?"

Ron's mouth was hanging open but he seemed to be considering Harry's words. After a moment he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. She's not really into Quidditch and he does live kinda far away." Then he turned back to Harry, questioning, "Do you really think she's trying to make me jealous?"

Harry didn't, but he certainly didn't want Ron to know that. Harry nodded fervently, keeping an eye on Padma, who was fast approaching. "I don't know for sure but I think she likes you. I notice her staring at you a lot in class." He didn't mention that she was usually staring daggers at the back of his head because of something stupid he had done. "But don't even approach her tonight, mate. Just have some fun with Padma, keep your head on straight, and," he winked, feeling very much like Sirius at the moment, "don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Ron grinned widely at that statement and slapped Harry on the back causing him to break into a coughing fit. "Thanks a lot, mate."

Harry just nodded, getting his breathing back under control. By then Padma had arrived looking furious. "Where have you been? This filthy Durmstrang creep kept trying to dance with me the whole time you were gone!"

Ron in turn looked furious, grabbing Padma by the arm and leading her back towards the stage. "Which one?" Harry heard him say as they walked away, "I'm going to beat the shite out of that wanker!"

Harry shook his head. "Don't get in any trouble and don't forget to come to the party!" he called to their backs, smiling.

He spotted the punch bowl nearby so he made his way over and grabbed two crystal goblets from the nearest table. While he was not thirsty himself, he figured Parvati might be; after all, she had probably continued dancing the entire time he was gone. Then, as he leaned over to grab the ladle and fill the goblets, he noticed a pretty girl standing alone and staring disorientedly into the punch bowl. Harry laughed to himself and approached the girl slowly so as not to startle her.

"Hello, Katie," he said softly. "How are you enjoying your night?"

Slowly, she looked up from the bowl and searched Harry's face before focusing on a spot somewhere to the left of him. "Hic-Harry, hi!" she said, swaying slightly, forcing Harry to steady her. She thanked him and placed one hand on the table. "I'm a little drunk," she admitted, causing him to laugh delightedly.

"So it seems!" he chortled, making her giggle as well. "Do you know the sobering charm?"

"Yesh," she slurred, "But I don't want to use it yet. It'll totally kill my buzz." She gagged a little bit, and shook her head as if it clear it. "Where's uh... you know, that girl?"

Harry did know, but he played dumb. "Who? I'm not sure who you mean."

"You know!" she exclaimed. "The mexican girl you came with!"

Harry couldn't help it; he busted out laughing. "Oh, you mean Parvati?"

"Yeah, Pervatty! What's that bitch up to?"

He ignored the slight against his date and instead answered the question. "She's waiting on me to get back with drinks actually."

"Drinks?" she looked in her handbag, which was conspicuously empty. "Damnit, Harry. Don't hold out on me!"

She was beginning to get loud so he shushed her and motioned to Fred and George, who were just walking up with their dates. Ignoring Katie, who was tugging at his robe sleeve and begging for booze, he stage whispered to the Weasley twins, "Hit her with the sobering charm!"

She stopped tugging on his sleeve immediately and turned to go. He smiled at the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who were all watching with great amusement as Katie walked crookedly towards the high table. Harry reminded them about the party, to which they all promised to show.

Harry made his way back into the crowd, which was starting to disperse now that the Weird Sisters had finished playing, and upon seeing Parvati he offered her the goblet he had brought her. She smiled happily and downed a good portion of it, wiping the beads of sweat off her brow and fixing her hair from where it had fallen while dancing.

"Sorry. I kind of got carried away back there!" she said, blushing prettily. "I must look a mess."

Harry smiled. "Not at all!" He pulled a piece of glitter off her shoulder. "You're shining!"

She hit his arm and giggled. "You're so corny, Harry. So," she said, looking around. "Did anything happen to you while you were gone?"

Harry looked around, spotting Katie standing very close to Mad Eye Moody and trying to reach a hand into his pocket where his flask was hidden and he said, "No. Nothing much at all. Would you like to get out of here?"

Parvati nodded. "Are we headed back to the tower?"

Harry smiled. "Not yet. I've got a surprise for you."

Parvati squealed and gave him a hug. "I love surprises!" Then she started dragging him towards the door, pushing the lingering dancers out of the way. "Coming through!"

Harry laughed and let her drag him, once again, through the mass of students and into the hall. He hoped she would enjoy her surprise although, technically, it wasn't just for her. He was unsure if she drank alcohol (though he hoped she did for his sake) but as he had before the ball, he decided to wing it.

"Lets do it," he said, mostly to himself. He never considered that he might be doing just _that_ later that evening.

"Hey!" Hermione called over the din in the entrance hall. Parvati had decided to let Harry lead the way once she realized she had no idea where they were going, thus Harry turned and headed back towards Viktor and Hermione, drawing angry looks from the people Parvati had not so kindly pushed past a few minutes ago.

"Piss off," Harry mumbled under his breath at a particularly tall Ravenclaw who bumped him roughly. "Hello, Hermione," he said, much louder. "How was the ball?"

She reached him and encircled him in a hug, looking very pleased with herself. "It was brilliant," she gushed. "Viktor was a perfect gentleman!"

Hermione spoke to Parvati for a moment and Harry took a moment to glance at Viktor. He tried not to laugh when he noticed the Bulgarian sneaking glances at Hermione's rear end.

"Gentleman, indeed," Harry snorted.

"What's that, Harry? Did you say something?" Hermione and Parvati were looking at him strangely. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I think it's time to leave," he said, pointing towards Snape, who had just come out of the Great Hall and was looking surlier than usual. "Are you coming to the party?"

Hermione nodded, looking excitedly at Viktor. "Yes! I suppose this is the best way to introduce Viktor to all of my friends; he seemed really interested when I brought it up."

Harry assumed Viktor knew that there would be alcohol at the party; he had heard rumors that the Bulgarian National team were as talented at drinking games as they were at Quidditch, and he imagined Krum hadn't quite escaped hazing at their hands, particularly after leading them to the World Cup finals. Harry noticed that Hermione was watching him curiously again so he nodded, grabbing Parvati's hand and turning to leave.

"Alright, we'll be there as soon as I finish showing Parvati her surprise," he drawled, looking a little too pleased with himself.

Hermione smiled, turned to glance at Viktor, turned back to Harry, and said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" while giving him a very cheesy double thumbs up.

Harry actually blushed. "You do the same, Hermione. I don't trust Krum about as far as I can throw him, but I trust you. Don't do anything that you're going to regret later; especially where Ron is concerned..."

Hermione took one look at Parvati and whispered under her breath, "Ron? He needs to grow up. I expected him to start a fight with me in the Great Hall... and then I was even more disappointed when he didn't. And then," her voice turned a mite violent, "he was caught by Professor McGonagall snogging with Padma in the entrance hall!"

Harry busted out laughing. "No way!"

Hermione laughed too. "Yes, way!" she finally said. "He's not getting out of the tower tonight, that's for sure."

Harry was no longer laughing; Professor Snape had crossed the hall and was standing right behind Krum, but he had his scowl trained on Harry. It was the same scowl he wore the very moment before Harry lost points in Potions. He walked directly towards Harry and Parvati.

Hermione intercepted Snape at the last moment, smiling brightly. "Hello, Professor. We were just headed back to the tower; I wanted to wish Viktor a good night first."

Harry's heart dropped. And then he realized she was lying to the Professor so they could leave.

"We'll see you later on then, Hermione," he said, ushering Parvati up the stairs and away from the increasingly angry looking Snape. He looked back on his way up and saw Krum trying to engage the Professor in conversation.

Harry smiled at Parvati and wrapped her in a loose-armed hug as they walked away. She met his smile with a light kiss and opened her mouth to say something when they were interrupted by a shrill voice coming from across the hall.

"Parvati," Lavender yelled, striding purposefully towards Harry and Parvati. Harry attempted to shy Parvati away and up the stairs to no avail; Parvati's smile deepened and she ran to greet her friend.

"Lavender!" Then, she took a look around and lowered her voice. "You're still coming to the party, right?"

Lavender nodded whole-heartedly but then she frowned, whispering conspiratorially, "You're not coming up to check your makeup before the party? You said we would go together!" Her voice turned pleading. "Come on! I've already ditched Seamus. He and Dean are half-pissed already! That doesn't mean I want to walk back to Gryffindor tower by myself though!"

She paused to glance around the corner, where Harry could make out two male French students walking very closely together and talking quietly. She grimaced. "All of these French wizards are poofs and the Durmstrang guys look like they might attack me anytime now!" One rather large Eastern European fellow chose that moment walk by the three students murmuring angrily to himself in a language Harry didn't recognize. Lavender narrowed her eyes, watched the bulky boy until he turned the corner, and then she let out a deep breath, looking miserable.

Parvati frowned and then looked guiltily towards Harry. "I know you said you had a surprise for me, Harry, but do you think I could go with Lavender? I don't want to leave her alone like this."

Harry really wanted to say no but, judging by the look on both of their faces, that would hurt their feelings. He sighed and made a passable attempt at a grin. "No, no," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You two just meet me at the party. I've got a few things I need to take care of anyway."

He wished Parvati goodbye and watched sadly as his date and her best friend rushed down the hall towards Gryffindor. Harry took a quick look around, and finding himself alone, pulled the Marauder's map from his dress robes. He whispered the pass phrase and searched his general area on the map to find that Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, Bulstrode, Goyle and Davis were very close and heading in his direction.

He smiled mischeviously and turned to walk towards the six Slytherin students when he noticed Ernie MacMillan and his French date strolling up the stairs wearing almost the exact same haughty frowns. Harry was forcibly reminded of royalty, and although he had never asked Ernie, he suspected that the boy had very old money. Harry greeted Ernie by sticking out his hand, knowing that the tightly wound Hufflepuff wouldn't normally shake his hand, but instead be forced to shake it or risk looking like a jerk in front of his date. The way her eyes lit upon his scar he knew she had recognized him, and he noticed that she turned towards Ernie, paying particularly close attention to what he was about to do.

Ernie, looking distrustfully at Harry, shook hands with him at long last, drawing a hearty pat on the back from the raven-haired Gryffindor. Ernie coughed, but his date looked pleased.

"How are you, Ernie?" At the boy's quick and dismissive nod, he considering simply walking away, but instead, Harry smilingly asked them, "Did the two of you enjoy the ball?"

Ernie nodded once more and, judging by the way the French girl was watching the Hufflepuff, he doubted she understood English. Then, surprising the hell out of Harry, Ernie relayed the question to the girl in fluent French, and the girl lit up, speaking and gesticulating, showing more emotion then Harry thought possible from the relatively tame girl.

Ernie smiled slightly. "She says that she had the time of her life and that she feels very lucky to have been here. She absolutely adores Hogwarts."

Harry, on a whim, turned to the girl and asked, "Do you know Fleur Delacour?"

Her face suddenly hardened, and she kicked the ground, saying something that Ernie rather funny but chose not to relay to Harry. Instead he said, "She knows Fleur. She thinks that _she_, instead of Fleur, should have been in the Triwizard Tournament."

During his explanation, the girl stopped speaking, walked straight to Harry, poked her index finger into his chest, growling "You... beat the bitch!"

"Okay..." Harry said, officially at a loss for words. She smiled, and he relaxed a bit. "I will! Thank you!"

As she moved back to Ernie's side, a shout from down the hall surprised them. "Well, look what we have here!" A series of loud guffaws followed Draco Malfoy's grating voice, prompting Harry to move in front of Ernie and his date, drawing the crowd's full attention. Deliberately ignoring Malfoy, Harry turned to Ernie.

"You're coming to the party tonight, right?" he said, searching both the Hufflepuff and his date's eyes. "You have to come! Most of Gryffindor will be there, maybe half of Ravenclaw. We don't have enough Hufflepuff's, I only got the chance to talk to Susan, and she said she and Hannah would be there." Ernie didn't look wholly convinced.

"What party? Where is there supposed to be a party?"

Harry glanced back at the Slytherins, who were slowly approaching him and more than likely thinking up something witty to say to him. However, he knew they were watching every move he made, so he smiled charismatically and offered, "It's in the trophy room at midnight."

At the same time he slipped a piece of paper into Ernie's hand, under the guise of shaking it once more. "I hope to see you there! Remember, that's the trophy room on the third floor."

Ernie glanced at Draco and with a dawning realization smiled and returned Harry's handshake. That bit of business done, he put his arm around the blonde, and they bid Harry adieu, walking away a little less briskly and stiffly as they had come.

"So, you're having a party, Potter?" Draco scoffed. "And you didn't invite me? I'm hurt, really. I would have loved to see the look on your face when I told you to shove off."

Goyle laughed uproariously, but the rest of the Slytherins missed their cue. Draco continued, "Instead, we'll be having a party of our own." He carelessly turned away from Harry and said to his group of friends. "But I'm sure Professor Snape would love to attend the party Potty's throwing."

This time they all laughed, and Crabbe gave Malfoy a congratulatory pat on the back that made Draco cough, and then just as quickly pretend that it didn't happen. He sneered at Harry, who had remained silent the entire conversation, and then the Slytherin passed by him without another word. Slowly the other Slytherin students trickled down the corridor behind him, Pansy Parkinson's high pitched voice ringing in the hall.

It had taken the better part of four years, but Harry could finally celebrate his revenge for the duel Draco had instigated and then forfeited in their first year. It had been rather difficult to point out Filch's patrols on the Marauder's map, and he had sacrificed hours of his free time following the caretaker when he could have been working on homework, or at the very least playing chess with Ron. It was worth it though. Filch would take a break in the corridor outside the trophy room around midnight, Malfoy and his goons would come to crash Harry's party, and Harry was certain he would be no where in the vacinity.

Smiling brightly, Harry walked up the stairs towards the seventh floor, smiling as he noted various invited guests lining the staircase. His spirits rose even more when the majority of them smiled back at him.

"Finally time to get this party started!" he thought while greeting Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who both seemed to be holding Katie Bell back from actually going on the seventh floor.

"Merlin," Angelina said, grunting from the effort of dealing with the inebriated girl. "You drank too much again! Don't you remember that the last time you did this you damn near died?" Her voice dropped, noticing that everyone was watching them. "You jumped right off the bloody tower, scared me shitless..." She trailed off when Harry cleared his throat.

"I'm sure she's fine, Angelina! If she wants to be drunk, let her be drunk!"

A few people cheered and Katie let out a belch. "You're damn right! Get off me, bish..." Angelina frowned heavily and immediately took her hands off of her friend.

Alicia just looked bored. "Harry," she said, addressing him for the first time. "This party better be worth it."

He didn't answer, instead he just smiled winningly at her. She continued to frown despite his attempt to be suave. He cleared his throat, "I hope that it will be. I'm just waiting on a few more people to get here before I show you our surprise."

Just then, Parvati approached him from behind, encircling his waist with her small bronze arms. "Hey, Harry," she said, "I thought that the surprise was just for me!"

He turned slowly, finding that his date had changed out of her ball gown, and had instead chosen a very attractive dress that showed off more than a bit of her long legs. On the verge of salivating all over his robes, he swallowed.

"Do you like it?" she purred, hiking the dress up just a bit more, and leaning into him making him catch his breath. "I'm wearing it for you, you know."

He locked eyes with her. Simply, he said, "You look amazing, Parvati."

She giggled, and then she moved away from him, revealing Lavender. The girl looked as if she was about to say something cutting, when Katie succeeded in pushing Angelina away from her. She stepped up to Harry and Parvati and burped once before staring the Indian girl down.

"So," she said, "Are yeh gonna get a room or what?"

Parvati blushed prettily while Harry laughed it off. Katie was oblivious to the blank stares coming from Angelina, Alicia and Lavender.

"Harry," she said, drawing his name out. "Are ya gonna get us a room, or are we gonna stand on this staircase all night." She pulled up her dress a bit to show Harry the same amount of leg that Parvati did. Before he knew it, he found himself pretty much salivating over Katie's leg as well, as it was quite a bit more developed, probably from Quidditch practices. She drew a finger across her thigh, causing goose pimples to pop up down to her calves. "It's bloody cold out here!"

Shaking his head, he laughed nervously and wiped his sweaty palms on his robes. More and more people were showing up so he said, "Yeah, I guess we can get started." He raised his hands to quiet everyone and, once he had their attention, he took a moment to look around. Hermione and Krum were standing not far from him, and Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang were hanging on eachother further down the staircase. Harry was a little disheartened to note that Fleur and Roger Davies had skipped out, but he supposed that had more to do with their seemingly disastrous date than a lack of willingness to party on Fleur's part.

Fred and George Weasley stood by Lee Jordan talking quietly, and Padma approached her sister looking a bit sad. Seamus was singing an Irish tune that Dean was struggling to follow, and Neville still looked a bit queasy beside the very cute Ginny Weasley. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott stood with a group of Hufflepuffs Harry didn't know the names of, and Oliver Wood was in the midst of nearly twenty other students he didn't even bother trying to recognize.

In the suddenly quiet staircase stood many of his friends and admirers and more than a few people that he admired himself. He had set about planning this night from the ground up and thus far it had exceeded his expectations. Pretty much everyone he wanted to have show up had made it , with the small exception of his best friend Ron, who was supposedly locked up in the tower.

Best of all, there was no one from Slytherin present.

"Well," Katie implored, while tugging his sleeve. "What the hell, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, getting his thoughts together and focusing on the room that he would soon be drawing into existence.

"Let's party!"

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Two-<em>


	3. Chapter Three

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Three**

"Oh, come on, Harry! What are you waiting for?"

With a slightly sickening realization it occured to him that his night, and by relation every else's night, was now relying on only the word of a house elf. After all, it was Dobby who explained to him, in vague details, what to do to get inside the "Come and Go Room". According to his eccentric friend, all he had to do was walk back and forth three times and visualize what kind of room he wanted. However, he had never been to this hallway in his life, and wasn't even sure which side of the wall the room was supposed to appear from. The only thing he was absolutely sure of was if the room didn't come to him soon he would have a riot on his hands.

Of course, he did have a back up plan if the Room failed to show. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to use it yet.

"Harry, can you explain to us what you are doing?" When he didn't respond, she called his name. "Harry!" She began to tap her foot angrily as Harry ignored her.

"You know what I wish," said George, who had popped up on one side of Harry.

"What's that, brother?" Fred said, as always, humoring his twin.

George leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jumper, looking more than a little morose. "I wish we could play Quidditch. It's too cold, and it's too dark, but we've got the best students in three schools here." He pointed at Krum. "One of which just so happens to be the best seeker in the world. Plus, we haven't been able to give a bludger a thwacking all year!" He mimed using a beater's bat, but instead caught Fred in the bicep.

Fred punched him back, and then they both busted out laughing, pushing each other into the walls like they were on pretend broomsticks and playing Quidditch in the hall. Lee Jordan narrated their game, using a bottle of Firewhiskey as a microphone.

Cho Chang interrupted the two brothers. "Well, I would actually love to play in the snow right now. It's probably a little too cold though. I might freeze!"

"We could always start a bonfire," Cedric Diggory suggested, wrapping an arm around the Asian girl's shoulder.

Lavender yawned. "Well, whatever. I wish for a lot of things right now that aren't going to happen," she said.

"Like what, some more whiskey?" hiccuped Seamus, who was leaning on Dean, who leaned rather heavily on Neville. Ginny stood silently beside them.

Lavender ran a hand through her hair and scowled at Seamus. "I wish we could all hang out and have a good time without _you_ throwing up everywhere after."

One of the Ravenclaw girls laughed. "I wish we could sit down for a while. My feet are killing me in these shoes!"

As everyone began to chat about what they wanted, a door appeared behind George Weasley. No one noticed it until Parvati screamed. Harry turned immediately and ran to her side, trying to determine the danger.

George jumped away from the wall like it was on fire, and swung around. "What is on me!"

Fred gasped. "It's a spider!" he yelped.

George was still. "Oh, that's alright then."

Hermione walked towards the door. "Hush, you two. A door just appeared on this wall." She looked over at Harry, who was now starting to smile broadly. "I assume this is the room we're having the party in?"

At Harry's nod, she smiled and, with her wand, she opened the door, revealing a landscape so white that it shined in the dark hallway. A sheet of snow covered the land in either direction, but huge mountains lurked in the distance, and only the area closest to them was passable.

Just over a hill, a street corner rose out of the snow and an Irish pub was just opening for business.

"A pub!" Seamus said, nearly falling into the room in his haste to go check it out.

"Oh, my God, this is awesome," said Neville, having let go of Dean who was now draping his arms across Ginny's shoulders even though he didn't seem to be that inebriated anymore.

George and Fred were the first to notice the Quidditch pitch and they ran towards the field when they saw broomsticks and balls scattered across the grass. Viktor looked as if he wanted to go with them, but a quelling look from Hermione silenced him.

"This is pretty amazing, Harry," said Parvati, who had wrapped an arm around his waist. "I'm very impressed!"

"As you should be," he said, but was drowned out by the squeals of delight coming from Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott.

"Wow! There are ice sculptures too? Ever since I learned how to make them with magic I've been dying to see some really good ones, but I haven't had the chance to. These are amazing!"

Hannah had moved immediately towards a stable which housed a brown horse, and she looked as if she might be in tears. Harry worriedly informed Susan, "I think she's crying. Is she going to be alright?"

Susan laughed. "She's better than all right, Harry! She loves riding horses, her mother and father bought her one, but she's so busy at Hogwarts it's hard for her to find the time to ride it."

Parvati stared at Harry as if in awe. "You knew all this was going to happen? This was going to be my surprise?"

He didn't mention that the surprise he had planned for her would have involved the two of them kissing for a while. Instead, he nodded and tried to look more humble than he felt.

"I was going to have you think through what you wanted so that when we entered the room for the first time it would be whatever you wanted the most."

She looked pensive for a moment, before turning away from him. Harry thought he may have said something wrong, but an instant later she was kissing him, drawing cat calls from some of the people just now walking in.

"Alright, alright. That's enough. People are watching you, you know?" Ginny said, elbowing Harry, whose eyes had glazed over completely. "Snap out of it, you dolt!"

Harry waved his hand dispelling her pinching fingers. He didn't appreciate the welt she would probably leave on his neck, not to mention the fact that she interrupted the best kiss he had ever had.

"Piss off," he mumbled against Parvati's lips. She smiled and squeezed him tightly before letting go and grabbing Lavender's hand.

"We're going ice skating!"

"Wait!" Harry yelled, drawing Parvati's attention. She looked at him, dark eyelashes fluttering in the wind, and then he didn't have the heart to demand she stay and hang out with him. Sighing, but trying not to look too deflated, he said, "You two have a good time."

Parvati beamed, and even Lavender looked less annoyed then before. "Don't worry, loverboy," Lavender said, taking Parvati by the sleeve and pulling her towards the ice, "You'll have plenty of time to snog later."

Harry couldn't help but feel chastised. After all, that was what he had all intentions of doing later.

* * *

><p>Ron Weasley had a dilemma. A party was going on somewhere on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, and he was trapped inside Gryffindor tower. Curfew had been set at 1 AM, and according to Ron's bedside clock, it was only 10.30.<p>

That meant he had two and a half hours left to figure out a way to escape, still make it to the party, and get back before any of the Hogwarts staff noticed.

Thanks to his unlucky timing, Professor McGonagall had been coming around the corner when she caught Ron with his tongue down Padma's throat and a hand on her backside. Thus, his night had been compromised, and he was now locked in the fourth year boy's dorms while McGonagall read a book on Transfiguration in the Common Room.

Despite being locked up, a smile crossed his face everytime he thought of how awesome the night had been. Of course, he would definitely be in deep with his parents, and he knew to expect a Howler sometime in the next few days, but the school would know that he kissed one of the best looking girls in the year in front of everybody.

He sighed, racking his brain for ideas on how to sneak past McGonagall. The door was spelled shut, but the window wasn't. He didn't have a broomstick, but if he could somehow sneak out the window, squeeze through the admittedly small opening, and climb down the tower...

"Damn," he thought. The only thing he could think that might work was pulling his sheets around him, casting a ton of Cushioning Charms on them, draping Harry's invisibilty cloak around himself and the sheets, and free falling out the window into the snow far below.

So eventually he did that. "Let's party," he said, encouraging himself and unknowingly echoing Harry's words from an hour previous.

His only regret as he fell forty feet was that no one would see how awesome he was.

* * *

><p>While everyone else in the Room of Requirement was having a grand time, unbeknownst to them all, Harry was brooding. Parvati was a hell of a lot of fun, but she was as wishy-washy and airheaded as any girl he'd ever met. One minute she was kissing him soundly on the lips, and the next she was teaching Neville how to ice skate for the first time. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help wanting his date's full attention, and he didn't think it was too much to ask for her to spend time with him, especially when the alternative was more gossiping with Lavender.<p>

Harry occupied himself by watching Ginny lope around the ice like a professional, one foot raised high in the air, showing off her long thin legs. He was for a moment taken aback by how pretty she looked, but just as quickly the feeling melted and his stomach unclenched. After a shaky moment he laughed and shook his head. Ginny was far too young for him to make any move on, and though he was sure she would be a knockout in a few years, he couldn't afford to piss off any of the six older brothers she had until he was sure they would approve. Besides, if he was honest with himself, everytime he tried to talk to her she became unusually shy, and that really bothered the crap out of him.

He moved his attention away from the third year Gryffindor girl and he looked through the window of the small tavern, watching as Seamus danced on one of the small tables. A moment later he was flailing his arms, trying and failing to keep his balance. Then Seamus fell, and from the looks of it, he wasn't getting up anytime soon.

"I'll go check on them," said Hermione, who had eventually permitted Viktor to join the Quidditch game that was brewing over their heads. She sighed. "They'll probably need Madame Pomfrey, because I am certainly not making them a hangover potion."

She walked to the door of the pub in a huff, and then, rapping hard upon the door, she swung it open, beginning a tirade that was sure to be memorable. Then again, Seamus was conked out on the floor and was unlikely to remember anything at all. Harry waved his wand and closed the door to the pub, cutting off Hermione's angry voice.

Then, without any warning, he was dragged down in the snow and a warm body was thrown on top of him. Expecting Parvati, he was surprised to find Katie mere inches away from his face, her eyes wide open and her cheeks rosy. Her lip trembled and she started babbling.

"Whoa, Harry! I'm really sorry. I just... I was just running through the snow and I slipped and I thought I caught my balance, but I really didn't, and I was going to tackle you, but I kind of muffed it up-"

Harry looked around warily but, by Merlin's grace, they hadn't drawn the attention of anyone else. Parvati was laughing at Neville and Ginny, who had collided and were now sprawled on the edge of the ice.

"It's okay, Katie. Really."

But she pressed on, continuing her odd explanation. "No, Harry. I'm sorry." And then she surprised him by pressing _him_ down in the snow. "It's my fault." She wasn't moving anytime soon and, judging by her sudden interest in his eyes, as well as the gentle but noticeable twist of her thighs, she seemed to enjoy the weight she placed on Harry's legs. He found he was unable to move any quicker than she let him.

Of course, once he had locked eyes with Katie, Harry found he was in no hurry to move. He felt obligated to say something, perhaps to suggest that she move before they were seen in such a compromising position, but something inside him held him back and he found himself absolutely silent.

Katie blew the ice out of her hair and giggled softly, and Harry found his attention drawn to the crook above her mouth, just below her nose, where she had a tiny scar that he had never noticed before. For a moment, he wondered how it got there and he wanted to ask her, but then, of course, that was a ridiculous question to ask so he kept quiet. Katie swept a finger around her lips and then whispered, "What, is there something on my face?"

He tried to straighten up and explain about the scar, but instead she was drawn closer to him, and he found their lips very close together. Their noses bumped and her eyes closed, and then finally, their lips touched.

He could taste alcohol, though he had not drank any himself, and his heart pounded in his chest; he knew better than to risk himself out in the open like this, but a large part of him could not be persuaded to care, as he continued to kiss the girl on top of him.

He rolled her over and pressed his own weight down on her, wiggling just enough to get between her legs and run one hand down the thigh she had showed him earlier. "It's cold," she said, smiling against his lips.

Never one for unnecessary conversation, Harry did not reply, and instead placed his hand on her face, trailing kisses down her throat. Katie moaned and then whispered in his ear, "I just want you to know... I'm not that drunk."

Harry stopped kissing her for a moment and looked her in the eye, finding that she was also staring him in the eyes with a clarity that he had not expected. He sent her a questioning look and she nodded firmly. He returned her Cheshire grin with a hesitant smile. "So, what was all that at the party?"

"I couldn't bear to see you with 'that bitch Pervatty' so I got liquored up until after the party. As soon as we left, I hit myself with a sobering charm and I've been putting on an act so I could get left alone by Angelina and Alicia and take my chance with you."

Harry was astounded but, for the first time, he seemed to realize that he was lying in the snow with a girl that wasn't his date, so he scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could.

Katie frowned, from the ground, and continued. "I wanted you to ask me to go so badly that I was on the verge of asking you myself! But when you asked Parvati," Katie said, and then laughed miserably. "Well, all that flew out the window!" Harry was still dumbstruck when Katie waved her hands, intending to calm him down. "Not that I'm mad or anything. I just assumed since you seemed to know so few girls that you might ask me. I mean, we always have Quidditch together, so you had me alone enough times to pop the question."

Harry shook his head, getting animated as well. "Well, I had no idea you liked me like that! You're older than me, and outside of Hermione, I don't think I spend as much time with any other girl."

Katie smiled. "Yeah, but I didn't want to rush you into anything... _then_. Now, I'm desperate to the point that I jumped you the first chance I could get you alone."

Harry loaned her his hand long enough to stand her up straight, and then he took a step back from her. He looked around and his stomach dropped; Parvati had noticed the two of them on the ground, though Harry was unsure if she had seen them kissing. Judging by the dark-skinned girl's angry look, she suspected more than just a tumble in the snow.

"What are you two _doing_?" she asked, her eyes narrowed and her jaw tight. She gave Harry a confused, hurt look, and then she focused on Katie, who was just getting to her feet.

Harry didn't know what to say, so he settled for an apologetic look that he knew really wasn't helping the situation. Lavender was behind Parvati looking equally offended, and he was trying to remember what spells to use to defend himself when Katie, out of the blue, started laughing.

She continued to chortle while Parvati and Lavender looked as if they might strangle her where she stood. When she caught her breath, she said, "I'm so sorry, Hic-Harry. I didn't look where I was going." She paused, swaying forward and coming rather close to the two girls. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

As she said this, she pushed Harry aside and paid him no mind, instead staggering towards Parvati and giving her a smile. And then, Katie did something that no one watching would ever forget.

Time seemed to stand still as Katie vomitted spectacularly onto Parvati's dress. For a moment all was quiet. Then Lavender screamed, and slowly, as she noticed Harry and the rest of the crowd eyeing her with disgusted or pitying looks, Parvati began crying.

"Oh, my God," said Neville and Ginny simultaneously. Harry just stood stock still, aghast at what had just happened, and unsure whether he was off the hook or if he had jumped from the firing pan into the fire.

Luckily, no one seemed to paying him any attention. Thinking quickly, he ran to Parvati and hit her with a Scourgify charm, but instead of clearing the vomit from her clothes, it just made everything that much worse.

Parvati screamed, "No! You can't Scourgify this dress!"

Small tears appeared on the previously lavish dress and the bottom of it was in tatters in seconds. In a moment, Lavender was yelling at Harry and Padma was looking between Parvati, Harry, Lavender and the fallen Katie, as if torn between who she was going to ask what was going on first.

Just like that, Parvati lost it. "That's it! I'm out of here! This dress is absolutely ruined!"

Lavender turned on Harry. "That's a 300 galleon dress your _slut_," and she pointed at a slowly recovering Katie, "just barfed on. I hope you're fucking happy, Potter."

Lavender scowled at Harry and then she and Parvati began walking to the door. Padma was as surprised as Harry by the looks of it, but after a moment, she jogged to catch up to her sister.

"You don't have to leave!" Harry said, and he meant it. "Listen..."

But she wouldn't listen. She just sobbed and ran out. Lavender storming out behind her, and Padma gave one last questioning look at Harry before she joined her sister, presumably to get the scoop on what had just taken place.

Katie waited barely a moment before laughing delightedly, and then when everyone turned to look at her, she covered it with a cough. Standing suddenly, she whipped out her wand and cleaned herself off.

"Let's party," she said. Her lips quirked in a genuinely happy grin, she ran up to Harry and kissed him on the cheek.

Ginny and Neville turned to each other and they both mouthed, "Oh, my God!"

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Three-<em>


	4. Chapter Four

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Four**

As it turned out, Ron Weasley was just entering the seventh floor corridor when Parvati literally fell out of a brick wall opposite a tapestry of a man dancing with trolls. It took him a moment to realize she was headed for him with an angry, slightly devastated look on her face and what looked to be vomit hanging from the bottom of her appreciably short, but irreparably torn dress. In fact, she was currently the only person in the castle with worse attire than what he was wearing.

He opened his mouth to say hello, or to warn her that her dress was ruined, or to ask her why exactly Lavender and Padma were trailing behind her looking intensely angry and vaguely confused respectively, but instead all he could do was squealch as she ran him over.

Parvati screamed in fright as she connected with something invisible, and was only slightly mollified when she found out it was Ron covered in a Invisibilty Cloak. Lavender commenced to beating Ron about the head while Padma helped Parvati up.

Parvati shook her off roughly and attempted to wipe the tears from her eyes. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Get off me!" was Ron's reply, although it was directed at Lavender, who had taken to whacking him with her handbag as quickly and soundly as possible. "You're nuts, you are!"

Padma pulled Lavender away from Ron, and then faced him, giving him a questioning look. "What are you doing here?" she said, echoing her sister. "I thought you were in deep with McGonagall."

Ron tried to smile endearingly, but it didn't help that both his ankle and now his head were throbbing with his pulse. Instead he settled for looking constipated. "Well," he said, scratching his sore scalp where Lavender had been hitting him. Too pained to be anything but truthful, he replied, "I jumped out Gryffindor tower to avoid McGonagall, then I walked back to the front door and I'm just now making my way to the party. Luckily, I had Harry's cloak," and here he pointed at the shimmering cloak lying on the ground, "or Snape would have had me in the Entrance Hall."

Lavender hit him once more, this time on his left bicep. "What do you mean you 'jumped out the tower'?" Then she noticed his rapidly purpling ankle underneath his robes and sighed, putting her face in her hands. "You bloody idiot. You really jumped off the tower, didn't you?"

Ron wasn't going to take any cheek, even from a girl that he masturbated thinking of quite regularly. "Look, lay off. I didn't want to miss the big party, and," he looked at the Ravenclaw, "I wanted to spend some time with Padma before I have detention for the rest of the year."

She smiled prettily and for a moment he was struck by how beautific her smile was. Then, his eyes were drawn to her chest and he struggled to hear what Parvati was now saying.

"Some party," she mocked, casting a dark eye at the wall where the Room of Requirement had been. "Too bad some bitches can't hold their liquor!" Lavender nodded fervently, while Padma sighed quietly. Parvati continued, giving Ron the same angry glance. "And your best friend can rot in hell for all I care!" This statement was accompanied by a small sob, which Parvati tried to cover with a hasty cough.

Ron really had no idea what had happened, but he assumed correctly that Harry had screwed up with Parvati somewhere along the way. He contemplated defending his friend, but decided against it, as he lacked the ability to defend himself against three fourth year females.

Luckily for Ron, Lavender was itching to give him the scoop. "Oh yes," she said, building up a head of steam. "Harry thought it was prudent to not only ruin his date's dress, but also shack up with that hag Katie Bell!" Parvati nodded disconsolately while Padma grimaced.

Ron secretly congratulated his friend, who had once confided in him that he thought Katie Bell had the best looking arse in all of Hogwarts. He also secretly agreed with Harry's choice though he did not voice his opinion to the women present. Instead, he spoke with conviction. "What the hell was he thinking? I thought he really liked you Parvati!"

Parvati nodded, still looking dejected. Padma looked as if she approved of what Ron said, and was going to tell him so, but instead Lavender shrilly interrupted her.

"Yeah," she said, acting as if she had known this would happen all along. "Well, we all thought wrong, didn't we?"

Ron smiled hopefully at Padma and then at Parvati. "I'm sure it was all just a big misunderstanding! He told me just this morning how much he liked you. Why don't we just go back in there, wherever _there_ is, and we'll see what their problem is."

Padma nodded, and even Parvati looked cheered. Lavender continued to frown angrily, but was mercifully silent.

"There," Ron said, limping forward and putting an arm around Padma, "All better." He smiled, and Padma tentatively returned the expression, though she looked down when Parvati passed her, striding toward the door she had just stumbled out of.

Ron could only hope that his friend had not ruined the night for him.

It was at that moment, while four students were talking outside of the Room, that four more students were congregating in the snow inside the Room.

Neville and Ginny were still trying to silently deal with the shock of Parvati's exit, while Harry looked thoughtfully at the door. Katie, for her part, seemed to be the only one not to give a damn.

She pulled at Harry's arm, trying to get his attention. Eventually she did, though he didn't look ready to party at all. In fact, the look that he gave her was so filled with loathing, Neville took two steps away from the pair.

Harry opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but he instead gasped as he felt something freezing cold hit him from behind. He slowly turned to find Fred and George, one of them carrying two broomsticks and the other directing snowballs with his wand. The Quidditch game seemed to be over, and now the participants were walking back towards Harry and the others.

"Snow ball fight!" one Hufflepuff sixth year yelled, dragging two of his mates down into the snow and causing a melee that spread throughout the students. Fred and George turned to unleash hell upon the other students and Neville and Ginny ran hand in hand to cover somewhere near the frozen lake. Katie smiled as she watched the proceedings, but her smile fell as she noticed Harry eyeing her angrily.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he said, using his wand to dry his back. Just as quickly he had put his wand away and was walking towards the door. "I have to go get her and explain what happened," he continued talking to himself and ignoring Katie completely.

Katie gasped and then hurried to catch up to him, grabbing him by both arms and attempting to halt his retreat. Despite Harry's size, Katie was stronger than she looked, and it was difficult for him to continue through the snow; Katie found herself on top of him once more when they both lost their footing a moment later.

Harry looked even less pleased to be trampled the second time around. The two Gryffindors wrestled in the snow for a minute and, to anyone watching, they seemed to be participating in the snowball fight that was taking place all around them. Only they knew better as Harry threw Katie off of him, before straddling her in the wet slush.

With surprising strength, he held her to the ground and, though she struggled to move, he had her sufficiently pinned. Katie's eyes grew big as galleons as he pushed all his weight on top of her.

Quietly, against the squeals of delight coming from the Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students fighting nearby, Harry asked, "Why would you ruin her night? Did you think that you could just kiss me and suddenly everything would be fine and dandy? Did you think, even for a moment, about how I would react? I worked so hard getting everything ready for the ball; I learned how to dance, I bought the drinks, I made sure all of my good friends had dates. And for what? So I could have it all ruined at the last minute by a girl I didn't think would give me the time of day!"

"I could feel how much you enjoyed our kiss, Harry! I know that we have a connection, and now you know it, and I'm sorry that I couldn't show you that before, but..."

Harry raised his voice, unaware that Katie had silently started to cry. "But nothing! Parvati is a good, a _great_ girl, and now one of the most important nights of her life has been ruined! She'll never look at me the same, and imagine how she feels! We have three more years together, and she'll never forgive me for this." He took a deep breath. "Never. So I have to ask you, Katie, what did you think would happen?"

"I don't know!" she sobbed, tears streaming down the sides of her face, trying to avoid Harry's searching stare.

"I don't believe you," Harry said, shaking his head angrily. "You had to have thought it through, at least once! Tell me what you thought would happen!"

Katie's head unexpectedly shot up from the ground and she looked Harry dead in the eye, answering almost defiantly. "I thought you would fall in love with me, damnit! I thought you would kiss me back, and when you did, you would scoop me off my feet and we'd go somewhere just the two of us could shag until our bloodyprivates fell off!"

Harry was breathing so heavily, concentrating so strongly on what she said, that he was unaware of himself picking Katie slightly off the ice and then slamming her back down until she was moaning in pain. And then, as if a light had been switched, he smiled at her.

"Why didn't you just say so," he spat, closing the distance between their lips in an instant, his tongue seeking entry into Katie's mouth. He felt her teeth against the tip of his tongue for only a moment before she began kissing him back passionately, grinding herself against him from below. Just as fervently he pressed into her from above, drawing another moan from Katie, this time one of pleasure.

The snow ball fight continued some distance away, with Fred and George having decided to take flight and dive bomb those without broomsticks. Harry couldn't have cared less about the other students as he and Katie's kissing continued, growing more and more desperate. In a matter of minutes, Katie had found a way under his robes and had one hand wrapped around-

But then, the door to the Room of Requirement slammed open, interrupting what would have shortly been a very sticky situation. Ron, Padma, Parvati and Lavender were standing just inside the door, their faces ranging from sickened to apoplectic.

Miraculously, Harry's face remained blank. Katie craned her neck so she could see and slowly removed her hand from his member. Harry gasped at the loss of contact but made no comment. Katie smiled at the trio, waving her now free hand at them.

"Hell of a party, eh?"

* * *

><p>Katie Bell was absolutely ecstatic. She had succeeded in stealing Harry from Parvati and he had finally showed signs that he was attracted to her. Granted, her back was pretty sore from where Harry slammed her against the snow, but she would take it, all things considered. She assured herself that ruining one girl's night did not make her any less of a good person.<p>

_Maybe_.

Still, it didn't stop her right eye from stinging where Parvati's bludgeoner hit her. Of course, Katie was unarmed, having left her wand in her handbag, or she would have defended herself. Her eye had swollen painfully, but she shrugged it off as totally worth it because Harry had stepped forward to defend her.

Parvati screamed at him and pretty much called him a dickless coward but he bear her comments with a stoic look. He had made his decision and he was sticking by it.

Katie smiled just thinking about it. Then, she winced, as Harry placed a bag of ice over her eye.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worriedly looking at Katie.

"It was just a weak bludgeoner. You don't have to take such good care of me," she said, even though she really wanted him to.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

She wanted to squeal he was looking _so_ cute! She really couldn't get over how sweet he was being about everything. In her admittedly short experience, the other foot was about to drop and he would start being a completely dick at anytime.

"I need to take you to the hospital wing, Katie," he said suddenly. Katie tried to make a suspicious face, but she just hissed in pain.

"No, you don't," Katie laughed. "I'll be fine, just hold that ice… ahh, _there_."

Even with her eyes closed, Katie could sense Harry shifting uneasily.

"No, you don't understand, Katie."

Katie tried to open her eyes, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Why was she blacking out?

Harry spoke hastily, over the sound of Ron's voice shrieking something about bees.

"That wasn't a bludgeoner she hit you with. You've got some serious swelling on your face. I'm going to stun you and levitate you to the Wing."

Oh, _that _explained it. With a last, almighty effort she gave Harry her thumbs up and then she heard him cast the spell. Katie saw a blur of red light and then she knew no more.

* * *

><p>Ron led the way while Harry levitated Katie into the Hospital Wing. Ginny and Neville followed them with concerned looks. Luckily, Madame Pomfrey was awake and treating a first year Hufflepuff. His eyes grew big as he saw Harry Potter come rushing through the door and he pointed, drawing the attention of the Madame.<p>

Poppy fixed Harry with a stern look. "You seem to be uninjured, for once, so I'll assume you're responsible for injuring someone else. So, I'll ask you, who did you injure this time, Mr. Potter?"

Ron grinned and mouthed, "Burn!"

Harry groaned. "Actually, I was responsible. We were practicing new hexes and it got a little out of control."

Ron moved to interrupt Harry but the Gryffindor seeker waved him off with his free hand. He instead levitated Katie's unconscious body onto the bed. Poppy approached the student and began running diagnostic spells.

She turned, one arm waving mechanically, and gave Harry a haughty stare. "You expect me to believe that on the night of the Yule Ball you were _practicing new hexes_? I'm not that gullible, Potter."

"No, no... we were just hanging out after the Ball." When her look intensified, Harry smiled, hoping to ease her worries a bit. "We were playing a game in the common room, and I went to sting Ron here," he supplied, and the three Gryffindors behind him nodded with varying degrees of uncertainty. "Of course, he ducked, and Katie just happened to be walking downstairs-"

The woman searched his eyes, seemingly looking for a lie, but Harry's childish face did not waver. "_That_, I can actually believe, Potter. You and Mr. Weasley cannot settle your grievances in the common room! I've told you many times not to cast magic after hours. But do you listen?"

She continued in the same vein for a few moments, now resigned to taking care of poor Katie Bell, who had only been an innocent bystander, after all.

"I think it may have been the Beezus spell we were working on, Madame," Ron said, as all of the students had recognized the effects of the hex. Simply put, the spell gave the victim an allergic reaction similar to many different bee stings. Apparently, Parvati had been really angry, as the hex shouldn't do that much damage.

"Of course it was, Weasley. It's just that she's extremely allergic to bees. Luckily, the counter to the spell and a bezoar will reduce the swelling back to normal in a few hours or so." She sighed, as if giving away part of her infirmary to one of these children was unnecessary stress. "Still, it's too late for her to go back to Gryffindor. She'll have to spend the night here."

Harry nodded, not sure if he should be disheartened or not. On one hand, that meant that Katie wouldn't be able to come to the next party with him and so he was without a date. On the other, it wasn't as important as Katie's face not being disfigured. When Poppy returned to her office, Harry turned to Ron and asked, "Are you ready to go?" He added an imploring look that Ron failed to notice.

Instead, Ron asked, "You aren't going to stay here with Katie?"

The doctor saved him from replying by saying, "No, it's much too late for any of you to stay here. Off with you all. You can check on your friend in the morning."

Harry tried to look down instead of happy. He failed. "Let's go, guys," he said.

In the hallway, Ron shot him a triumphant look. "You didn't want to stay with Katie, did you? If it was one of us, I bet you would have argued with Pomfrey, at least for a while."

Ginny and Neville nodded behind him, and Harry sighed. "Yeah, if it was any other night I would stay here. But tonight is special. We'll never have another night that's even remotely similar to tonight. We're young, we're all dressed up, there are parties popping up all over the castle and the teachers don't really seem to mind." Then, he amended his statement. "Well, except for Snape, of course."

Again, Ginny and Neville nodded simultaneously. Ron thought for a moment, nodded and then said, "I guess you're right. Damn," he exclaimed, scaring a group of fifth year girls that were lurking just around the corner. "I should have had Pomfrey look at my ankle."

"Well, why didn't you, dumbass," said Ginny, drawing laughter from Neville and Harry and a dirty look from Ron. "Here, let's go back."

Ron tried to shrug her off, but her insistence coupled with his pain convinced him to go back to Pomfrey. Neville was attached at the hip to Ginny, so he followed them. Harry shook Ron's hand before they left and said, "Don't forget. It's the room behind the portrait of Wilson Hancock—"

"Behind the portrait of Willy the Whalecock, I got it."

Harry laughed and continued walking. As he walked, he thought of his evening thus far, smiling wryly at how crazy things had gone. It sucked that Parvati now hated him, and he was sure she would never forgive him, but at least he had a smoking hot older witch interested in him. In fact, he was one step closer to 'catching his snitch' as Fred and George referred to it.

Harry didn't think Katie would be a good long term relationship for him, especially considering everything on his plate this year, but he figured if he screwed it up somehow, at least they could still be friends afterwards. He wasn't really looking for a girlfriend right now anyway; even though it was the holidays and he could afford to take a break, he still spent a majority of his free time preparing for the next task.

He had not solved the riddle of the egg yet, but he had a feeling it would come to him sooner or later.

He rounded the corner and took a brief look at the Marauder's map. The first thing he noticed, to his surprise, was Hermione quickly headed in his direction. Viktor seemed to be walking alongside a dot named Katrina with a last name that was too long to make out. Harry put the map away and jogged towards Hermione, calling her name as he rounded the corner.

"Harry!" she replied, startled. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Hermione," he said, looking around curiously. "Where's your date?"

She rolled her eyes. "My date turned out to be a womanizing fool like the rest of you so-called men!"

Harry laughed. "Hey! I resemble that remark!"

She smiled despite herself, and pushed him away softly with one hand, chiding him lightly. "You know you do. You had a beautiful, albeit _different_ date to the ball and in the end you passed her up for another woman you knew better. Right?"

Harry wanted to argue, but she was technically right. "So? What's your point?"

"My point, Harry, is that Viktor did the exact same thing. Don't get me wrong; Viktor was an amazing date and I would do it all over again in a minute, but he's more attracted to his friend Katrina. I'm not going to be mad about it, because a relationship between the two of us never would have worked out, but it still stings quite a bit."

Harry nodded and put an arm around his best friend. "Hey. Cheer up. Don't you still feel like celebrating?"

Hermione huffed. "Celebrating what, exactly? The ball has been over for hours and almost everyone is heading off to bed." Then, she looked at Harry suspiciously. "What did _you_ have planned?"

His face revealed nothing but he said, "Just a party. Would you like to be my date for the rest of the evening, Miss Granger?" He offered her his arm gently and after a long moment she took it. He tried not to shiver when she slid her fingers down his arm. He took a moment to admire her in her revealing dress, and found his attention caught on her neck, right where the Time Turner had set a year previous. He couldn't recall her ever looking so pretty.

Her inquisitive look gave him pause. "Are you sure about that? We could just go as friends, you know."

"Well, we'll always be best friends, but tonight I'd like to show off the prettiest girl in the castle."

His flirtatious comment didn't effect Hermione in the slightest. "Well, I think I saw Fleur arguing with Roger Davies in the entrance hall, so there may be luck for you yet!" She punctuated this statement with a fist to his arm.

Harry coughed, and rubbed the spot where she had hit him. "I was talking about you, as you well know, although I will certainly file that information away for later." Dropping the act, he seriously asked his friend, "Will you come to the party with me? Please?"

She smiled, pleased by his earnestness. "Okay then, Harry. Just this once, let's party."

* * *

><p><em> -end of Chapter Four-<em>


	5. Chapter Five

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Five**

Ron Weasley lay in the hospital wing reflecting on the highlights of his evening. His foot no longer screamed painfully, perhaps owing to the gentle care of Madame Pomfrey, but more likely because he wasn't trekking about the castle on a broken ankle. He smiled suddenly, recalling his insanely dangerous fall from Gryffindor tower, and then just as suddenly he frowned, remembering that his Transfiguration professor would most likely give him detention for the entire next semester.

He argued with himself trying to decide whether or not getting busted and then busting his ankle was worth one kiss, but since it had been his very first kiss, he was leaning towards the 'worth it' side of the argument. Padma was definitely digging him, he didn't royally piss Hermione off and, from this angle, Katie Bell's arse was slightly hanging out of her nightgown.

His smile grew and, momentarily, he felt something under the covers grow as well. He blushed and made a passable attempt to shift his attention to something other than Katie's ass, but in the end he settled for memorizing the curve of her pale cheeks shining in the winter moonlight.

So, naturally, it surprised the hell out of him when Katie moaned and then sat straight up in bed. A moment too late, he turned his attention to a spot on the wall, but Katie was none the wiser.

"Ron," she whispered, sounding distressed. "Are you awake?"

He wanted to ignore her, especially considering his on-going situation below the sheets, but eventually Katie's repeated attempts to arouse his attention worked.

"Katie," he said, feigning sleep and producing a completely fake yawn. "Is something wrong?"

Katie crept off the bed and walked towards Ron slowly. His member throbbed angrily below the covers, but by the grace of Merlin she didn't seem to notice. It occurred to him that though the swelling on her eye had completely disappeared, his own swelling had increased tenfold.

"Listen. My eye is about back to normal, so I'm going to break out of here and go to that party. Do you want to come with?"

Ron really wanted to go, but he was having trouble not revealing his boner to his friend's potential love interest. With his brain working faster than it ever had in his life, he shook his head, declining Katie's offer.

"Honestly, my ankle still hurts," he said, though it had quit hurting about three seconds after Pomfrey fixed it.

Katie laughed quietly. "Pussy," she said, turning away. The sheets around Ron's mid-section stretched suddenly, but thankfully Katie had not seen them. She walked into the darkest corner of the room and said, "No peeking! I'm changing."

Ron squinted but he couldn't make out anything worthwhile through the darkness. After a minute or two, Katie returned to his bedside, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, Ron," she said softly, causing all of the blood in his body to rush to his groin. "What are you going to do?"

He almost said 'masturbate furiously' but instead he replied, "I guess I'll just stay here and cover for you if Pomfrey comes back."

Katie smiled at him brilliantly. "You would do that? Thanks a lot!"

Ron nervously smiled, noting how close their heads were and the complete lack of anyone else in the room. Katie kissed him on the cheek and as she walked away said, "You're a good guy, Ron. Don't ever change."

He said nothing, not trusting himself to move his lips without drooling all over his gown. Katie stepped lightly to the door, opened it carefully and swept out with very little fanfare. Ron let out a deep breath as she exited.

A few minutes later, once he was sure Katie wasn't coming back and that Pomfrey was nowhere around, he lifted his sheets with one hand and smiled mischievously. "Let's party," he whispered.

* * *

><p>Harry and Hermione walked with their arms linked, talking quietly about the ball. Hermione was of the opinion that the Weird Sisters were average compared to their Muggle contemporaries the Rolling Stones and the Who. Harry had never heard the Who, but had been a huge fan of "Satisfaction" growing up, as it certainly described his role in the Dursley household.<p>

Hermione giggled when he sang, "I can't get no!"

"You sound awful!" she called over the top of his voice. He sang louder then, grabbing Hermione by the hand and swinging her in a very graceful loop around him. He was pleasantly surprised when she laughed again and began singing with him.

"Satisfaction!" they yelled together, and then went completely silent as they heard other voices in the corridor. Hermione pushed him through the nearest door and swung it shut behind her. Soon, Argus Filch rounded the corner going as quickly as his old legs could carry him.

He bellowed at the top of his lungs, "No raised voices in the hallway!"

Smiling in the dark room, Hermione whispered to Harry, "Doesn't he realize he's the only one yelling?"

Harry waited a moment more for the caretaker's footsteps to fade away, and then he lit his wand tip. "Where are we?"

As it turned out, they were alone in a simple broom closet. Harry was reminded of Hermione's body pressed against his and, rather than dread her reaction as he might have before tonight, he extinguished the wand and pulled her closer against him. In the darkness of the closet, Hermione was ready to berate him for turning out the light, but instead she gasped as Harry placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Her initial reaction was bewilderment; how he could find her lips in the dark so quickly? Next, she realized her best friend was kissing her. Then, like a shot, she remembered they were in a broom closet.

Harry pulled away a moment before she did, and then lit his wand tip once more. Harry thought Hermione looked torn between storming out of the closet, or possibly kissing him again, but he wasn't sure which. Her eyes were panicked, but he could almost see the wheels turning in her head, probably over-analyzing the situation. Before she could decide he was a prick, he cleared his throat.

"Look, Hermione. I… I'm always going to be your best friend, no matter what happens. I just always wondered what it would be like to kiss you in a broom closet."

Harry smiled brightly and hoped that Hermione would as well. After some time she nodded as if just coming to some kind of decision. "Did it exceed your expectations?"

Harry was momentarily stumped. The honest answer was no, because it certainly didn't live up to his wildest fantasies, but he didn't think she would want to know that. Of course, he could play it cool and tell her yes, but he felt that he owed her some honesty.

"Well, to be honest Hermione, I never thought of our first kiss coming in a broom closet. I thought of kissing you on the Quidditch pitch, or in the Common Room, or even in the Restricted Section of the library on some really dark texts, but come to think of it, I'd never once thought of you and me in a broom closet until just now."

Hermione was grinning as Harry finished talking so he thought he might be in the clear.

"You avoided the question, but I'll let it go. It wasn't a very good kiss, was it? I suppose not, since I didn't want to kiss you." Harry nodded meekly.

"Right," he said a little too quickly. "Well, let's go to that party. Shall we?"

"Not so fast," Hermione said. Just as quickly she mumbled, "After what you said, it occurred to me that I've always thought about kissing you too… you know, in places." She hesitated. "You know, like you did!

Harry nodded swiftly, and tried to fight off a blush as he remembered one particularly graphic scenario involving the Headmaster's pensieve. "Right, I mean it would almost be impossible not to think of each other that way at least once."

"Right," Hermione squealed and then she visibly calmed down. "So, it's okay that you kissed me, because in a way, I've always wanted to kiss you too."

Harry nodded, liking the way Hermione's thoughts were leading even though he wasn't sure he agreed with her rationalization. Without further provoking, Hermione offered, "I've thought about kissing you a lot, really. Third year after we saved Sirius I really thought you were going to kiss me, and I freaked out a little, but then you just turned away like nothing had happened. My heart was kind of broken, to be honest."

Harry was silent, pondering Hermione's words. At the time he hadn't thought about Hermione that way, but he couldn't recall feeling that way about any girl back then. It was only recently he had decided that the opposite sex, with an emphasis on the 'sex', was the key to a successful life at Hogwarts. Until tonight, it had not occurred to him to think of Hermione that way. Of course, he knew she was female, and since second year he had been imminently aware of the things developing inside her shirt, but, even as they both got older, he had always thought of Hermione as a friend first.

Apparently, that had changed in the last hour. For the first time, he wondered if perhaps had been doused with a love potion, because he seemed to be falling for every girl that came into contact with him.

Hermione cleared her throat. He turned his attention back to his best friend, noting that she looked a bit sad that he had not responded. She opened her mouth to say something again, but he interrupted her by grabbing her hand.

"You have been my closest friend for the past two years, Hermione. Ron will always be my best friend as well, but… with you it's different. You take care of me, you worry about me. You make sure I'm well-groomed and help me pass all of my exams. You're concerned when I have a problem, even if it's only a small one. You usually, always, know what's best for me and when Ron was busy blabbing behind my back about how much of a liar and a cheat I was, you believed me without a word. "

Hermione shook her head. "Yeah, but Katie and Parvati…"

"What about them? They could never mean as much to me as you do, Hermione, and you know that! Parvati was a nice date, but she's way too all over the place for me. And Katie…"

Hermione snapped, "They must have meant _something_, or you wouldn't have run around _snogging_ them all night. How do I know you're going to be any different now? As soon as one of these other girls comes knocking you'll be falling right back." She spat, her frustration painting her soft face pink. "Just like Harry Potter. He has to be the first one to 'catch the snitch'!"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Harry and Hermione's eyes grew as big as galleons and Harry pointed his wand at the door.

"Come on guys, I know you're in there! I could hear your voices clean down the hall!"

Harry opened the door to reveal Katie Bell in her Yule Ball gown looking as vibrant as ever. He noticed her eye was back to normal and she was eyeing him with a possessive look. Hermione was frowning heavily when he glanced at her, but she spoke kindly to Katie.

"Oh, are you okay, Katie? It looks like you're back to… normal."

Katie carefully watched the two of them. "Have y'all been arguing? Is that what all the screaming was about?"

Harry didn't respond immediately so Hermione said, "No, no. Really we were just talking about the ball."

"In a broom closet?" she said, motioning all around them. "Hmm. Cosy enough place for a chat, I guess, but not the place I'd expect the two of you to be talking."

"Well, actually, we were hiding from Filch," Harry offered. "He came by here not long ago."

Hermione confirmed Harry's tale with an affirmative nod, and it seemed Katie was convinced because she let the subject drop. "Oh, well, why aren't we at this party you invited us, and who knows who else, to?"

Harry smiled. "We were on the way there before Filch came along. Why don't we all head there together, okay?" Harry allowed the two girls to exit before him and then he closed the door. Katie eyed him expectantly.

"Well, don't just stand there, Harry! Lend me your arm. Now. There's a good chap!"

Hesitantly, Harry offered Katie his arm, trying not to squirm at the hurt look Hermione was failing to hide. Resolutely, Harry's best friend stepped forward, roughly passing Harry.

"I'll lead the way, shall I?" Hermione hastily wiped her eyes, and he couldn't tell from behind, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was crying. Katie obviously wanted to hang back a bit and have a moment alone with Harry, so Harry watched balefully as Hermione turned the corner out of sight.

"Kiss me, big boy," Katie whispered, giggling, and she pressed her plump lips against his.

An hour before, he would have laughed off the thought of him and Hermione together and been all too pleased to escort Katie to the party. Even as he acknowledged this, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was making a terrible mistake. Furthermore, he couldn't help wishing to be back in the broom closet, face to face with Hermione.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Five-<em>


	6. Chapter Six

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Six**

Harry did his best to smile and enjoy the party atmosphere. He had never met so many people at once in his previously unpopular life. In a way, he felt bad. There were more important things than parties and girls, but at the moment, he couldn't think of anything as fulfilling. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy the attention he drew when he found more than one girl was willing to come up to him and praise him for his success in the tournament, for throwing a great party, and once, for saving them all from the Dark Lord.

Frowning, he chided himself for getting lost in his thoughts when a very pretty blonde with exceptionally long legs finished saying, "If you're interested in joining the Gobstones club, just let me know. We would love to have you in us, Harry."

One of her two friends from Hufflepuff piped up, "Yeah, you could be in us, Harry!"

The blonde added, "A lot of Hogwarts' best and brightest have been in us. Even the Headmaster has been in us. Of course, that was a long time ago, but you could follow in his footsteps. We only meet at night on the weekends, so you'd still have plenty of time for other extracurricular activities..."

Strangely, he couldn't remember any of the girl's names for the life of him. Eventually, he shook his head and declined their invitation as gracefully as possible. "Well, if I'm ever up for a game, I'll let you know!"

She sighed, a small frown now on her face. "We'd love to have more people in us, but honestly, we just can't fit them all in. But for you, Harry, we would all make an exception. Right, ladies?"

They giggled. The girl on the right said, "Maybe sometime we can all play around?"

Her friend said, surprising Harry, "I'm DTF." They laughed uncontrollably and even the other girl smiled lightly. Harry was unfamiliar with that abbreviation, but assumed she was talking about Gobstones.

"No, no. I'm afraid you'll have to keep on playing with yourselves."

The blonde smiled, and then looked at him appraisingly. "Suit yourself, Harry. I'm Lily, by the way."

His confusion must have shown on his face because she said, "You look like you've seen a ghost, Harry! What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," he hastily assured her. "It's just that my mother's name was Lily, you know?"

She gaped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"Yeah," he said, and made a pained face. "A lot of men died out there..."

She frowned, but at his significantly lifted spirits, she smiled as well. "You had me going there for a second. I thought you were going to get a 'tear in your eye' and then I'd have to go all Rita Skeeter on you." She lightly pushed him, a sure sign that she was flirting outrageously.

Harry forced a smile remembering the incident earlier in the year. "No, it just took me by surprise, that's all." He spotted a long-haired sixth year boy talking to Hermione and his smile faltered.

"It was nice meeting you, Lily, but you'll have to excuse me," he said, moving swiftly into the crowd of people meandering about the room. A lot of students had seated themselves at tables and benches and were talking to each other quietly. While the room they were in was really an old classroom, it was big enough for everyone present to have at least a little space to themselves.

Across the room some Durmstrang students passed a small flask and Harry couldn't resist laughing at the faces they pulled with each liberal swig. He had only sampled fire whiskey once, but he figured the bitter taste of one liquor couldn't be all that much different from another. The four boys nodded at him but otherwise paid him no mind. Honestly, Harry preferred it that way.

As soon as the people had settled down with their drinks, Harry had used his wand to dim the lights just a bit. He found it slightly difficult to make out the people on the other end of the room, but he knew that the students had merged together as he could hear a number of them singing in time with a Wizarding Wireless. Language barriers had been momentarily forgotten and students mingled freely, and in a lot of cases, unlucky Hogwarts wizards made failed attempts to dance with the abundant French witches. Roger Davies, for example, was having a stilted conversation with his date, who looked utterly unimpressed and, as far as Harry could tell, ready to leave. As he had just noticed Fleur balling a fist up, he decided to step in before she left Davies with a bloody nose.

It was his great desire before the ball to have all of the Champions in his presence as long as possible, as he hoped to build a relationship or two. If a clue about the upcoming task just so happened to come out, he wanted to be there to hear it. So, it was unsurprising that he spared no thought for the two women he had come to the party with. Instead, he stepped forward valiantly and in two strides joined the not-quite couple near the exit.

"Hello, Fleur," Harry said pleasantly, smiling at the admittedly distracting beauty in front of him. Her head snapped towards him and she had a scowl on her face before she noticed who was addressing her. She eyed him warily, but returned his greeting.

"Bonjour, Harry," she said, and then angrily rattled off something in French when she noticed that Roger was drooling slightly. Even Ron wouldn't have been that distracted by Fleur's allure, so Harry was a bit taken aback by the sight. She sighed and turned her attention back to Harry. "Are all English wizards so annoying as this?" She motioned at the awed look on Roger's face. "He can barely hold a conversation, and I'm the one with the... how do you say? Language issues."

Harry laughed brightly. "Your English is almost perfect, Fleur! And," he added, "You can't exactly blame the guy." He pointed at Roger. "You're looking absolutely amazing tonight; it would be awful hard for anyone not to slobber all over himself."

Harry only seemed to realize what he had said, and who he had said it to, after the words had rolled off his tongue. He also blushed slightly as he realized that Fleur had taken his statement in stride. Eventually, she asked, "Slobber? What is this word?"

Harry continued pointing at Roger with one hand and put a finger on his lip with the other. He mimed drool running down his chin and she nodded having finally understood. She smiled. "Thank you for the compliment," Fleur said, sounding very proper.

Harry considered his next move. Inwardly, he was screaming with joy and fear, but he bravely offered her his hand and said, "Would you like to take a walk?"

For quite some time, Fleur was quiet, until Harry was sure she hadn't understood him at all, but then she glanced at Roger, who had not moved, and she said, "Yes. Let us walk, Harry."

He helped her stand and escorted her out, completely unaware of the envious stares of Katie and Hermione.

* * *

><p>Hermione scowled. It had been an hour since Harry had left the party with Fleur Delacour and still there had been no reappearance of her best friend. Katie had long ago wandered off in search of him, and though Hermione had resolutely refused to leave the party to search for Harry, she was beginning to cave in the longer he stayed gone.<p>

She argued with herself trying to decide whether or not it was bad form to form a search party at a party. Eventually she frowned heavily and began searching for something to occupy her time because surely Harry would come back before the party ended. The only problem she could see with that, however, was that the gathering of students had not showed any signs of dispersing until the early morning.

Cormac McLaggen was being held aloft by his ankles as he made a valiant attempt to steer what amounted to a magical beer bong into his mouth. Many more students were gathered around him cheering, and as always, Cormac was enjoying being the center of attention. Hermione certainly didn't want to be around that crowd and gave them a wide birth as she crossed the room.

Some Slytherin students were trying and failing to be incognito as they still scowled at her as she passed. She could have sworn she heard one of them mutter the M word, but it was a testament to her preoccupied mind that she didn't say a word in return. In fact, she didn't talk to anyone, and instead found herself at the table that held all of the refreshments. For a long time, she looked around, and finding everyone had turned their attention to Cormac, she quickly poured herself a bit of the whiskey and, before anyone could stop her, she downed the tall glass in one swift gulp.

Her throat and stomach burned, but not unpleasantly so. She wanted to follow the shot with another, but she was interrupted by the dark laughter of one of her least favorite Hogwarts students.

"Draco," she snarled, turning around with half a mind to start slinging curses. She wondered idly how he had got into the party without her or anyone else noticing, but the thought was lost underneath the sheer hostility that was running through her body. "What are you doing here?"

He gave her an innocent glance, one that looked positively diabolical on his sharp face. "I'm just enjoying the party," he said, taking a sip of his drink. Then he spat, "What is this bloody Muggle drink? It's horrid!"

She laughed, but quickly covered it with a cough. She was feeling particularly vindictive so she said, "It's a real man's beer, Malfoy. Something you would obviously know nothing about."

He fixed her with an irritated glance. Then, he taunted her quietly. "Certainly not as much as you; after all, you are the almighty Know-It-All. Tell me though; how does fire whiskey compare to your little Muggle drink, hmm?" He laughed at her despondent look. "If only the rest of Hogwarts knew about your habit!"

He had said this much louder than she would have liked, and more than a few heads turned their way. Draco pointed nonchalantly to the empty glass next to Hermione. "How long _have_ you been drinking fire whiskey, Granger?"

There were a few gasps, but she did her best to ignore them. She cleared her throat. "About thirty seconds, Malfoy. As you can see, everyone else here, with the small exception of yourself, is drinking and has been for quite some time. So, what is your excuse, ponce?"

Malfoy gaped for a moment, but spoke in response to someone's cackling laughter. "Very funny; you think you could drink more than me then?"

Hermione had been placed in Gryffindor not because she was inherently brave or courageous, but because she never backed down when challenged. Without thinking through what she was proposing, she said, "You're damned right I could!"

The Weasley twins swept in and wrapped an arm around each of the arguing students, perhaps sensing that mayhem was on the horizon. "Draco and 'Mone," George or Fred slurred from just behind Hermione. "The only way to shettle thish one is a compa-tishun." He smiled drunkenly, having finally pronounced the proper word.

His brother agreed with him and took it upon himself to inform the rest of the students that there was about to be a drinking match between Hermione and Draco. Chants of Hermione's name grew louder and louder as the news of what new debauchery was about to take place travelled through the students. Cormac McLaggen was one of the most vocal in his support of Hermione, and even made his way over to the petrified Gryffindor to whisper some last second words of encouragement.

"Handle it," he said imploringly, pointing at the large mugs that Hermione and Draco would be drinking out of. Then, as if he just given her the greatest advice on drinking in history, he patted her heavily on the back and took a step back.

"Shit," Hermione murmured, drawing laughter from the lanky form behind her. Quickly, she turned, and she found herself looking despondently into the eyes of Ron Weasley. "How much did you hear?" Ron merely smiled and, checking to see that no one else was looking, patted her reassuringly on her back.

"Everything," he said. "Don't worry, it will all be alright. You will beat him."

Hermione shook her head and cursed again a little louder. "I don't bloody drink, Ron! You saw what I was like after four or five butterbeer!"

Ron chuckled a little, remembering the time she almost pissed herself on the long walk back from the Leaky Cauldron to the Hogwarts gates.

"Listen, you'll be fine, Hermione," he said, placing a hand on her left shoulder. "Fire whiskey is not as strong as Draco seems to think."

With those enigmatic words he left her and headed towards the aforementioned Slytherin student, calling out over the crowd of gathered around the table of drinks. "Hey, ponce!" he mocked, grabbing a glass himself. "I heard you like to drink? It takes a hell of a man to challenge a fifteen year old girl to a drinking contest! Your father must be proud. In fact, I can picture him now, his robes pulled up over his head while your mother takes him from behind!"

Most of the students gasped, though Fred and George and surprisingly Goyle burst out laughing. Gregory took a glance at the shocked and angry look Draco was giving him and immediately apologized.

"Shut up, Goyle, you great ape!" he raged, before turning his attention to his red-headed nemesis. "My father—"

Ron waved him off and simply raised his voice over the smaller wizard. "Is a flaming homosexual? Prefers dick to pussy? Raised a son that's as gay as he is?"

Draco stomped his foot angrily. "Now listen here! I can out drink Hermione, sure, but why lower myself to the level of a girl—and a Mudblood at that! No, no, no… I think I would rather challenge you. And, if I'm taking the time to do all this, let's raise the stakes. What do you say, Weasley?"

Ron smiled inwardly. "What do you have in mind, Malfoy? I apologize in advance, but the only thing I'm interested in doing with your ass is beating it in this drinking game."

Draco snarled. "If I win, which I most certainly will, I want Potter's invisibility cloak. If I lose, which is nigh on impossible, I will give you my Firebolt."

Ron nodded, pulling a confused look. "Well, if Harry's cloak is invisible. How am I supposed to find it?"

Draco just gave him a haughty look in return. "Just use your imagination, freak. Do we have a bet or not?"

Ron took a look at Hermione, who still looked petrified, and then smiled brilliantly. "You're damn right we have a bet."

* * *

><p>Katie followed her boyfriend from a distance, careful not to alert the Boy Who Lived, or that slut Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, to her presence in the dark hallway. Obviously, the girl was more attractive than her - Katie grudgingly admitted that in a battle of looks alone Harry would definitely choose Fleur - but that didn't necessarily mean she was out of the picture. After all, Harry barely knew the French girl, and Katie highly doubted she would be much for conversation. She also didn't think that Harry was shallow enough to fall for a veela.<p>

She paused on the seventh floor and took a moment to straighten her attire. Checking herself in a window pane, she thought she looked amazing; she made a valiant attempt to admire her own ass in the glass, but eventually gave that up and returned her attention to spying on her boyfriend.

"This school of yours is very unique in some ways," Fleur was murmuring, as Harry listened with rapt attention. "You have a magnificent lake that is also a portal to another school, a tree that reacts to trespassers, secret passages everywhere, a wizarding village nearby, and, to be honest, I was the most impressed by the stars above the Great Hall. In fact, I owled my father just the other night to question him on the schematics."

Katie inwardly groaned. Apparently, the slut was smarter than her too.

Harry took a while to respond, pausing thoughtfully and making an honest attempt to add something to the conversation. Eventually, he made a decision. "If you think those things are unique, then I have something I need to show you."

Fleur smiled and batted her eyelashes demurely. "Is this something irresponsible, Mr. Potter? After all, you invited me to a party and I have yet to be fully entertained."

Harry and Katie's mouths both hung open, though Harry was the quickest to recover. He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, Mademoiselle Delacour, it would be my honor to introduce you to the one, the only…"

He paused, closing his eyes, and then exclaimed as a door appeared in front of him, "Room of Requirement!"

Katie had to force herself to remain calm and not make any hasty decisions. In less than thirty seconds, Harry was going to disappear into a difficult to find room with the best young woman France has on offer, perhaps to never return the same. Katie could confront him and force him to go back to the party with her but that was bound to end very poorly. If it came to a fight, Fleur would most likely beat her soundly, and as she had already had her ass handed to her by Parvati earlier that evening, she was not inclined to have her eye and cheek swollen once more.

Eventually, Katie decided to make a move. She wouldn't be aggressive, but she would convince him to return to the party. She took a deep breath, once again straightened her tight dress and stepped forward intending to call Harry's name. It took her a moment to realize that she was too late, but when she did she let out a screech that could be heard far down the hall and echoed into the dungeons.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape angrily swept the papers off his desk, annoyed at the mass of students that were screaming like banshees, most likely drinking fire whiskey and fornicating, possibly to create malformed children that one day, fine educators like his self would be forced to teach.<p>

Dumbledore had not asked him to patrol the halls tonight for a reason, he was sure. The crafty old man had a convoluted plan somewhere behind the smoke screen of an action that may possibly be another misdirection to cover up the original plan. It boggled even Severus' excellent intellect to think of the thoughts Albus Dumbledore might have thought up.

After a long moment, Severus decided a shot of alcohol was in order for him as well. With his wand he opened the cabinet across the room and a bottle of Ogden's Finest shot towards him, landing lightly on the table. With one more flick of the wand, the bottle uncorked and then proceeded to pour its contents, filling the glass to very brim. Then, he grabbed it, rolled it around in his fist, and finally, downed the sweet liquor.

It was a few moments later, once his ire had settled down and his desire for alcohol had been satiated, that another scream echoed loudly through the school followed by chanting that he didn't understand and did not care to hear at all; Severus was severely pissed that he couldn't be shit-faced in privacy and thus decided to investigate the irritating noise before another blood vessel in his brain burst. He donned his blackest cloak and swept into the hallway, headed towards the source of the clamor with a snarl on his face.

Seeing red, and ready to expel the first unlucky student to cross his path, Snape had just one name on his mind. If Harry Potter was found to be in any way involved, he would personally make sure he was punished. An almost gleeful look crossed the face of Hogwarts' most hated Professor, and he mumbled to himself as he walked quickly through the halls.

Snape was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he never noticed the venerable Headmaster walking silently behind him.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Six-<em>


	7. Chapter Seven

**We'll All Fall After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter Seven**

As it turned out, Harry need not have been nervous around the surprisingly talkative Fleur Delacour; in fact, he often found it difficult to get a word in. Granted, a lot of that was because he spent such an inordinate amount of time watching the gentle outline of her neck against the French sunlight that by the time he thought to say something, and then thought once more about something to say, she had already resumed her slightly one-sided conversation.

Still, Harry didn't think he was being too dishonest with his intentions towards Fleur and he really was just trying to make her night a bit better. Roger Davies was unbearably boring at his best times and had gone out of his way more than once to ruin Harry's already difficult Hogwarts days, so Harry figured it was fair to steal his date and lock her up in an unscryable room. It was just an added bonus that she was also immeasurably beautiful.

"Harry, are you listening?" Fleur said, as the lull in the conversation had lasted just a bit longer than it should have. Eventually, Harry shook his head and grinned self-deprecatingly.

"I'll be honest, Fleur," he said, giving her his most convincing stare. "I'm enjoying our privacy; that is, getting a chance to talk with you, but I was a little curious about the party. It has been an awfully long time since we left."

Fleur nodded sagely, though she didn't look like she much wanted to return to the classroom full of drunk and rebellious teenagers. She opened her mouth to say something, but for once Harry beat her to the punch.

"As a matter of fact, I have just the thing to check on the others and we don't even have to leave if we don't want to." He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the crinkled Marauder's Map. Fleur didn't immediately react, but when he unraveled the clasp and presented the map with all of the locations of the school's students and guests written on it, she became instantly as intrigued as she had when he first showed her the Room.

"Oh, mon dieu," Fleur muttered, placing one finely manicured hand over her chest. "Does that do what I think it does?"

Harry nodded and smirked like the cat that ate the canary. "This was actually passed down to me by Fred and George Weasley-"

"Oh, you mean the two red-headed twins that pull ze - uh, pranks, yes?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, the very same. See, I'm great friends with their brother, Ron, and I was not allowed to visit the village of Hogsmeade last year because I did not have parental consent. Of course, its a little difficult for me to get parental consent because I have no parents!"

Harry laughed lightly, before seeing Fleur's frown and sobering. For her part, Fleur said, "Yes, I could see how that might be a problem. But don't you have guardians in the magical world?"

Harry conceded the point. "Well, I live with my Aunt Petunia and my Uncle Vernon, but they absolutely abhor magic and both pretty much hated my parents. So, they hated me on principal because I was magic and I looked like my father and my mother. Add in the fact that Dumbledore is really the acting guardian and you can see why they didn't want me in Hogsmeade with Sirius Black on the loose."

Fleur looked concerned. "Did they ever find him once he fleed Hogwarts? I remember reading about it in the French news. He sounded like a very deadly man."

Harry laughed a barking laugh and Fleur looked at him as if he was mad. "As a matter of fact, Fleur," he said while trying to placate her with his hands, "Sirius is my godfather and is in no way responsible for the death of my parents. I found out before he 'disappeared without a trace' last year that it was Peter Pettigrew, the man he supposedly 'killed', that gave up my parents to Voldemort. Everyone assumed it was him because his family has such dark ties and they all thought Peter was dead. Case-closed it seemed, until he broke out of Azkaban and came to Hogwarts to kill Peter and we found out the full story. Dumbledore believes him, but it will be terribly difficult to get him off the hook without Peter alive, and he is most-likely back with Voldemort by now."

Fleur just continued to look at him as if he were mad. Harry snorted. "Too much information at once, yeah?"

She nodded slowly. "So," she drawled. "Sirius Black is a good guy, Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater, Voldemort is still alive and Dumbledore knows all this but hasn't said a word to either the English or French Ministry. Is this all true?"

Harry nodded as seriously as he could. He almost lost it when Fleur stood up, screamed something in French that sounded suspiciously like a curse word, and then began pacing back and forth on the French Rivieran beach. Harry noticed that Fleur was surpisingly spright considering her three-inch stilettos were travelling through deep sand but decided to let her puzzle out the new information in her own mind rather than interfere when she was angry. As the minutes stretched on, he did not comment and instead remained quietly sitting near the oncoming waves. Eventually, he heard her mumble something to herself in French and then address him in English.

"I believe you," she said with a note of finality in her voice. "I really wish I didn't but the facts didn't add up before this. I don't think you would run your mouth like a madman, least of all to a girl you are on a date with, so it either has to be the truth or you are more, ah - psychotic than I thought!" She eyed him strangely but he didn't think it was a bad strange.

After a moment, Fleur giggled, but Harry just nodded tiredly. "You aren't the only person that thinks I'm psychotic; if I'm honest with myself, most days, I think the life I'm living and the things that we all do are beyond psychotic. I chase a little yellow ball on a broomstick while propelling myself over one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour; I can start a blazing fire, summon a roll of toilet paper from the other bathroom and turn a tulip into an ottoman and then into an ostrich. The only thing that makes it even more wondrous and infinitely harder to believe is that every single one of us is capable of doing the same thing."

She nodded, still looking at him differently than before. It had taken Harry a moment, but he realized with a shocking clarity that she had called their trip to the Room of Requirement a date. Immediately, Harry caught her eye and, when she didn't turn away, he redoubled his efforts to keep eye contact and courageously grasped her left hand, running his thumb over it lightly. "You are a very attractive, intelligent, talented witch, Fleur; far more talented than I am now, but most days it seems like the entire world wants a piece of me and nearly never the piece that I want to give. Rita Skeeter would rather make up a story about how I long for my parents and paint me as a young boy who cares more about a girl and a party than whether or not a Dark Lord is out for my neck."

It suddenly occured to him that in the last twenty-four hours he had not thought seriously of Voldemort and had spent time with four different girls and at three different parties. Harry studiously ignored the part of his mind that was screaming at him for being a hyprocite and continued speaking to the Beauxbatons champion.

"But that's not the real truth. Hopefully, if nothing else, you will see that I am just a regular kid with a lot of weight on his shoulders. I'm not a liar, I didn't put myself into the goblet though I'm glad to be in the tournament and I'm certainly not some fame-seeking fool living in a delusion of grandeur. I'm just Harry Potter, a fairly decent Seeker, an honest to Merlin shoo-in for top spot in fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts and a single, only kissed-three girls teenager." He laughed suddenly. "But I really like you Fleur, and I don't think you see that other, pardon my French, bullshit the others concentrate on. You've got a lot more integrity than that."

Fleur's smile grew and then she leaned forward to place a soft-kiss on Harry's forehead, just to the left of his scar. He felt like he had just downed a flagon of Butterbeer but assumed that she would pull away. Instead, she brought her face closer to his and, after a few panicked moments where Harry thought his brain might explode, their lips connected. She wrestled him to the ground slowly and continued kissing him while rearranging her dress around her legs so that nothing too provacative was showing. For maybe a minute, they lay kissing before Fleur simply stood up. From the ground, he blinked slowly, his mind trying to process the situation. He imagined he looked like Roger Davies, but Fleur must have expected that reaction this time. She smiled, and gave Harry her hand for him to rise as well.

However, 'he' had already well-past risen and he was having a hard time; he turned beet red as Fleur continued to offer him her hand. Rather than be rude and stubbornly remain sitting, he ignored his growing embarrassment and just stood up. Fleur glanced downward and he was sure she had noticed his discomfort, but she didn't say anything and just used her wand to remove the sand from both of their robes.

"We should return to the party," she said. "I'm sure somebody is missing you by now." She whispered something and the time appeared in the air just above her glowing wand tip. "It is already past midnight so I doubt that the professors will let things proceed much longer than this. Isn't everyone supposed to go home tomorrow?"

Harry nodded, with little Harry finally receding enough for him to trust himself in conversation with Fleur again. "Sometime after lunch, if I'm not mistaken. Personally, I would rather stay up here all night and sleep on the train ride back."

Her eyes moved suddenly when he said 'all night' but Harry was still recovering from his 'incident' and didn't think too much of it. He continued wiping himself off despite the fact she had spelled his clothes clean and walked slowly over to the exit. She followed him and left very little distance between the two of them as they walked.

Harry opened the door but before he could cross the threshhold Fleur softly told him, "I had a very good time tonight. It was nice to actually talk to a boy my own age for once."

He neglected to mention the fact that she was seveenteen and he fourteen and instead thanked her for an excellent evening. "Fleur, I can honestly say that this been the most interesting conversation I have ever had."

She smiled. "I guess I should be going. I would like to head back to the party with you, Harry, but I did promise Madame Maxime that I would be back around midnight. As it is already quarter past, I suppose I should go."

The boyish part of Harry's mind screamed for him to ask her to stay as the feeling of her lips on his skin was still fresh on his brain, but rather than risk sounding childish in front of the girl was very quickly catching a crush on, he agreed with her. "Yeah, I do need to go check on my friends before curfew. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you Fleur, and if you ever need anything while you are here, do not hesitate to ask me. I hope we can see each other outside of the tasks."

"I would expect so," she said, leaning in close and placing a soft kiss under his ear. He shivered at the contact and he had to work very hard to steady himself and avoid falling to the ground.

Fleur looked at him then and her piercing gaze made him think that he had done something wrong. After a moment, she relented, and he could almost sense the mischevious air that came over her.

"I must apologize," she said, and before Harry could say anything, continued. "The first time I met you I was rude."

Harry said, "Oh, no, Fleur. I don't even remember what you said now."

"Well, I do," she replied, stepping just a bit closer to him. "I called you a 'leetle' boy because I was angry."

Harry shook his head. "It is fine-"

Before he could finish his thought, she wrapped one arm around him and he swallowed shakily. "You are not such a 'leetle' boy now, are you?" she said, placing one hand on his trousers. For a moment, he stood fully erect, and then she removed her hand. "Have a good night, Mr. Potter."

She sashayed away from him as he struggled to keep from howling like one of the wolves from Dursley's old cartoons. He still managed to smile as large as he had ever done in his entire life as he shuffled awkwardly down the dim halls back towards the party.

"Let's party," he said, laughing delightedly.

Little did he know that his sudden and unwilling ex-girlfriend, one Ms. Katie Bell, had seen his exit from the Room of Requirement and was now set on giving Harry Potter a very special Christmas gift that he would remember for the rest of his very-short life.

* * *

><p>Harry was in such a good mood he decided to take his time returning to the party, gradually making his way back while greeting the many faces he recognized and avoiding the more sloshed students and guests in his path. The Yule Ball, the traditional Christmas party of Hogwarts students and alumni, was as good a place as any for the higher-ups in the Ministry to mingle, half-drunk and completely full of themselves. It was the only occasion Harry could think of that could bring so many of the wizarding elite out and reduce them all to common drunkards at the same time.<p>

He found it extremely funny to see Undersecretary Weasley swaying as he left a nearby broom closet, his robes untidy and his face quite a few shades redder than before the ball. It was less humorous to see the chubby-faced girl that followed him from the closet moments later, slightly undressed and wearing an undisguisably satiated smile. He recognized the rather large girl as Melinda Flairgold, a seventh year Hufflepuff. The girl had approached him in his second year, and he would never forget her dreamily inquiring as to whether he was friends with any vampires or if he was willing to try a soul bond.

Fortunately, neither of them saw him coming and both ran off in their haste to flee the scene, leaving Harry sighing thankfully. As he continued walking, he realized that the noise level in the hall was far louder than it had been when he left, so he began casting a series of charms that would reduce the racket the students were making. Still, nothing could silence the loud roar that crossed the room when he entered it, and every eye save for one was turned to him.

If it surprised him to find Draco Malfoy knocked out cold on the floor he didn't let it show on his face. Instead, he nodded happily and ignored the boy completely, greeting his friends as he rounded the room. It took scant moments for everyone to inform him of what had just taken place, and when they did, he burst into laughter, clapping his best friend on the back. He frowned when his friend swayed on his feet and Harry was forced to steady him in order to keep him from falling into the table of drinks.

Ron smiled wearily, his eyes glazed over and his motor-functions seriously inhibited by all of the alcohol he had just consumed. In fact, to Harry's glee and ultimately everyone's laughter, Ron just sat down where he had been standing and started laughing.

"What's wrong, champ?" Harry asked, making a near perfect imitation of a cut man standing over his bleeding boxer. "You won the battle, now its time for your reward!"

Ron made an effort to talk, but Harry honestly couldn't tell what he was saying. A moment later Hermione appeared at his side, and his attention was drawn to her face where she seemed to be torn between telling Ron off, shouting at Harry for leaving the party, and perhaps downing a beverage of her own. Harry offered her one smilingly, which she denied frowningly.

"Where have you been?" she asked, and it was obvious to him that she expected a full description of the events preceding his return to the party. Harry shrugged.

"Oh, here, there," he explained, just to rib his friend a little bit. "Everywhere. What's up, Chuck?"

Cedric, who was walking by with Cho on his arm, frowned heavily, unsure if the Boy Who Lived was addressing him or not. Harry ignored the other Hogwarts champion in favor of holding his ribs where Hermione had poked him quite hard.

"I'm serious. Where did you and Fleur run off to?" At his blank face, which grated on her nerves like no other, Hermione snapped, "You know what? I don't care where you two went or what you did."

Harry smiled. "Good. Now that that is settled, we need to start getting everybody out of here."

Hermione looked like she wanted to say more, but she settled for asking, "What do you mean?" She glanced around the students, who were all surrounding Ron and Draco's virtually lifeless bodies and showed no signs of seeking the exit anytime soon. "I don't think anybody is ready to leave yet, Harry."

Harry just chuckled to himself, walking towards the center of the room. A few people noticed him but for the most part they were still focused on the extremely drunk teenagers. Cormac McClaggen appeared at his side suddenly, engaging him in conversation.

"I saw you with that blonde bird," he informed Harry, though his green eyes were looking at Hermione, who seemed to be inching her way towards the exit. "I must say, you are a lot more devious than I thought, Harry. To be honest, I'm damn jealous of ya." Apparently, this was a compliment coming from Cormac. "Parvati, then Katie, then a veela?!"

Despite the belligerent way Cormac said it, and despite himself, Harry smiled. Personally, he couldn't stand Cormac, as the boy rarely said the right thing and, more often than not, he was sticking his foot in his mouth, but Harry had to admit there was something awe-inspiring about the night's exploits. He had never kissed another girl before this evening, and in the span of a few hours, he had hit it off with four.

"What's next?" Cormac chortled. "Hermione?"

Harry frowned, having been caught off-guard by the boy's rhetorical question. He desperately wanted to take up for his friend, but before he could form a vehement reply Cormac answered his own question.

"Nah, you wouldn't stoop that low, eh, Potter? You set your goals much higher than that." Cormac sighed. "The best looking girls in our grade and the grade above us, and then the Beauxbatons champion, who also happens to be a veela with at least three years on you." Cormac looked more than a little envious. "What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes, bro!" He punctuated his statement by girating laciviously at a fourth year Slytherin girl who chose that moment to walk by. McClaggen merely chuckled when the girl sneered at him. "Women, eh?"

Harry took a moment to look at Hermione, who was pushing a fifth year he didn't recognize away from her and having a bit of trouble clearing the crowd. "What do you mean?" Harry asked testily.

"I mean, you're the bloody Boy Who Lived! You've got the best looking girls fawning all over you, worldwide fame at the age of sixteen, Professors making you out to be the reincarnation of Merlin, or at the very least, the next Albus Dumbledore. You're the most eligible bachelor, rich, talented, charismatic, all that stuff!" Cormac was incredulous as he stared at Harry, who was showing no emotion except for anger. "Anybody would want to be you!"

Really, Harry didn't think that was true. There was too much responsibility involved with having the entire school's hopes pinned on his Gryffindor badge, and the fact that he was universally touted as a hero only made living his life in peace absolutely impossible. He loathed his fame and feared those who seeked to use it to their advantage, people like Cormac, who would gladly bed a girl who wanted to be with him just because she knew he was famous. Harry's ire was peaking the longer he stood next to the unabashedly irritating fifth year.

Cormac paid no heed to the warning in Harry's eyes and continued to babble uncontrollably, either unaware or unconcerned that Harry was getting aggravated at him. "Yeah, dude. In fact, come to think of it, I'm kind of surprised that you and Hermione never hit it off."

"And why is that?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tumultuous emotions under control, and succeeding for the most part.

Cormac smiled as if he had been waiting to talk about this subject the entire conversation. "Well, I figured you either tried to hit that and couldn't make any headway or maybe Ron was porking her and just keeping it to himself." Harry's frown couldn't have been more severe if he had Polyjuiced into Professor McGonagall. "Personally, if I had a chance to smash I'd be telling everybody I knew!"

"Well, you know what?" Harry snarled, on the verge of giving his fellow Gryffindor a chewing out. "You will never get that chance. Hermione is far too good for you, and as far as I'm concerned, she's too good for me as well. She deserves more than someone who wants her for her body, and expects her to give it up without so much as a relationship beforehand."

"Whoa, bro! Calm the hostility! I'm sure Granger is a great friend, but you mean to tell me that you haven't tried to - hit - that?" He punctuated the last three words by punching his own hand quite forcefully. "Gods, I'd love to see if her hair is as bushy down there as-"

He noted that Hermione was headed his way so he quickly said, "Shut up! What the hell has gotten into you, Cormac?"

He laughed, pointing at Ron and Draco. "The same thing that went into them, though thankfully I didn't drink nearly as much as them." As an afterthought he added, "Ron is a beast though. Never seen someone our age drink that much without getting sick."

Moments later, he had to eat his words as Ron was sick all over the floor. Girls and guys alike shrieked, backing away from the heavily inebriated red head with worried looks on their faces. One or two seemed as green as Ron, looking unsure whether they wouldn't join him in vomitting in classroom. His brothers rushed to his side and embraced him then, hoisting him onto their shoulders and parading him around the room as if he was a King in his coffin.

"Look, Cormac, most days I don't even want to be me. Would you like a Dark Lord following your every move, playing a chess match that only ends in you escaping at the very last moment?" Harry didn't know it, but the crowd was beginning to turn their attention to him. "Ultimately, I'll have to face him again; I can feel it, like its my destiny to kill him or be killed. And yet you think its all fun and games, like having my parents murdered in front of me as a child was my ticket to stardom!" Harry laughed, without any humor, and was only slightly surprised to find that everyone's eyes were rivetted on him, including Hermione's.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but instead he shook his head and walked off silently. Cormac made a face but for once decided to keep his mouth shut. Under the watchful gaze of the students, Harry began banishing the alcohol. In a matter of minutes, he had cleared the room of any trace of the boisterous party that had been going on for too long.

"Okay, guys," Harry said, turning around to face the crowd. Some of them looked ready to revolt, but the majority of them really were tired and wanted to get the hell out of dodge before they got in trouble. As quickly as he could, he ushered the rest of the students to the doors. "It has really been a ball, but its nearly one in the morning and we're all supposed to be in our respective bedrooms by then. So, unless you want to be caught out of bounds..."

He left the comment hanging and it seemed to have the desired result; only Ron, George, Fred and Hermione stayed behind. Once everyone had disappeared, Harry turned to George.

"How drunk are you two?"

"We're fine," George said through a long yawn. Harry noted his eyelids were drooping, but at least he wasn't comatose like Ron. "Brilliant party, Harry, you really out-did yourself." He smiled, glassy-eyed. "Not that you did stuff like this before. What's the change?"

Harry wasn't sure, but from the corner of his eye he thought he saw Hermione perk up and pay attention. Harry cleared his throat, not really wanting to discuss this with George, whether he was inebriated or not.

"Do you ever feel like something is coming to you, and its not a good thing, mind you... and no matter what you do, nothing will change that, and you just have to face it, win or lose. And you're supposed to be satisfied with whatever fate throws you because - well, that's your destiny!" Harry realized he was babbling and did his level best to play the whole thing off. "I'm just getting older I suppose." He sounded lame even to his own ears.

George nodded, but eyed Harry strangely. "So, what are you getting at? Do you think you're 'destined' to have more parties like this in the future?"

"Yeah, George." Harry rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. But he still had one last thing to do before he could sleep. "Listen. Could you do me a favor?" he asked, leaning in towards George. "Could you take Ron back to the dorms for me?"

George answered him with another yawn and a nod of the head; he motioned to his brother, and just as they had done during the party, they hefted Ron onto their broad shoulders and carried him to the door. Harry and Hermione watched as the three Weasleys left, and they suddenly found themselves alone.

Harry could instantly feel the tension mounting in the room but he wasn't necessarily keen to release it. If he was absolutely honest, he wanted the tension to reach a head because he didn't know how they could just wake up the next morning after their brief kiss and go back to the way things were. Something had to be said or done before the night was through, but he wasn't sure he had the courage to potentially ruin his friendship. Apparently, Hermione didn't notice he sudden indecision.

"Well, it's been a great evening, Harry," Hermione said, with quite a bit of sarcasm in her voice, "But I think I will go back to the tower as well. I'm sure you're off to get into trouble, find some other party, kiss some other girl..." she trailed off, having voiced her main complaint and unable to take it back quickly enough.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said. She turned towards him and he could really see the emotions displayed on her face. He didn't need Legilimency to know that she was upset with him. "I'm really sorry about earlier."

Hermione sighed. "Look, Harry. We can be adults here. You kissed me in a broom closet and that was it. Nobody needs to be sorry about it." She was resisting, and Harry figured he deserved that, but he wasn't talking about their kiss.

"Actually, I'm not sorry about that. That was the highlight of the night. What I am sorry about is leaving you alone at this party when I pretty much invited you to go as my date."

Hermione was taken aback for a moment but she recovered quickly enough. "You are forgiven." She said it as if it was nothing to her, as if she had expected him to come apologize after the fact but was still disappointed he couldn't avoid being a jerk altogether.

"No,no," Harry said, drawing up his courage. "I should have told Katie to buzz off. You are my best friend, and I wouldn't trade that for - well, anything really."

"You are my best friend too, Harry. But Katie is your _girlfriend_." She added something under her breath that he couldn't hear as he had turned away, eyeing the hallway with some trepidation.

"Who said that?" Harry exclaimed.

Just then, Katie appeared, and Harry could honestly say that there was no one in the world he wanted to see less. He took a deep breath to prepare for the verbal lashing that was about to come, but it never did.

Hermione smiled. "You like that new trick, huh? Just imagine the person you want, say their name, and they appear in front of the caster." Her smile grew. "It felt really good to see you get all jumpy though. I'd love to see her walk through the door right now and, as Ron would say, rip you a new one."

Harry smirked. "She's not here. So, unhhh," he said, sticking his tongue out.

Surprisingly, Hermione stuck her tongue out as well, moving towards him just a little bit. She burst out laughing when he pulled a funny face, and he couldn't help but genuinely smile. For all the years that he and Hermione had spent together at Hogwarts, he couldn't remember a time when she looked so calm and sure of herself. It was as if Harry's kiss earlier had sparked a chain reaction in his best friend.

A thought crossed his mind in that moment. If one kiss could do that, what could one everyday do? He busied himself with looking at the ground, suddenly shy in front of a girl he spoke freely to every day.

"Whatever, Harry." Fortunately for him, she decided to change the subject. "We were leaving, right?" She headed for the door and Harry followed her, looking pensive.

Once they had exited the classroom and Harry had removed all his charms work from the hallway, Hermione set out for the dormitory. "Hold on," Harry said, grabbing his friend by the arm softly, turning her back towards him. "I want to show you something."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"So, you'll come?" he asked, pulling his best puppy dog face. She burst out laughing once again.

"Please don't make that face, Harry, you look like an overgrown goldfish." He sucked his cheeks in and she chuckled. "Yes, I will come with you. On one condition."

Harry smiled in the darkness of the hallway, and it promised mischief and fun.

"Anything."

"We have to be in bed by curfew."

"My bed or yours?" he mumbled, facing the opposite direction.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said 'let's head down a few floors'."

She narrowed her eyes. "Whatever you say, but you better promise me. Bed by curfew."

Harry knew he wasn't going to be in bed by curfew but he didn't let that bother him too awful much. He had long ago prepared to go through the detention he was bound to receive if he was caught, but he didn't want Hermione to go through the same fate. Still, he wanted Hermione to come with him, so he'd just have to do her best to have her back in...

"Fifteen minutes?" he laughed. "Fifteen minutes!" He scrambled down the hallway, pulling Hermione with him. They continued laughing as they ran, Hermione having absolutely no idea where she was going and Harry in a sudden rush to get there on time.

It was four minutes later that they skidded to a halt in front of the Trophy Room.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Seven-<em>


	8. Chapter Eight

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Eight**

Harry and Hermione both squinted into the darkness, but only one of the two Gryffindors had any idea what they were looking for. "I don't see anything, Harry," Hermione whinged, her voice muffled by the cloak around their bodies.

"Just keep an eye out," he mumbled, his attention on the hallway rather than the room itself. Any minute now he would find out if he was as clever as he thought he was.

"It would help if I knew what I was looking _for_," she grumbled. Harry knew she was afraid of being caught by Filch, and softly rebuked her for speaking so much in the quiet hallway. She bit her lip, slightly chastened by her normally more reserved friend, and said no more.

The silence was deafening in the corridor as they huddled close together and attempted to outwardly ignore the fact that their bodies were pressed up against each other in interesting new ways. In fact, Harry's leg was curled up under Hermione's right side, and she was snuggled firmly against his stomach as he cradled her with his back against the closest wall. Just when he considered making a rather lude remark about it, a noise came from down the hallway. Hermione jumped and put a bit of distance in between her and her best friend, but did not leave the safety of the cloak. She looked on edge, unsure what exactly was coming down the hall.

"Shh," Harry said, smirking slightly at his friend's actions, though Hermione couldn't see it. "Here they come..."

Right on cue, the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle came into view. "Potter said the party would be in the trophy room..." Harry could just make out the other Slytherins with them - Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis and Millicent Bullstrode. Judging by the garb everyone was still wearing, they had attended the ball together; considering the tremendous belch that came from Goyle, they had also been drinking vast amounts of alcohol.

"Perfect," Harry mumbled, the heat from his breath falling purposely on Hermione's exposed shoulders. She shivered noticeably, but said nothing, still watching the oncoming Slytherin students with a confused look on her face.

Daphne spoke up, the bun placed precariously on her head bouncing as she walked. "It doesn't seem like there are any students hanging about..."

Tracey answered her with a nauseating twitter. "Don't tell me everyone no-showed on Potter." Millicent joined her in laughter, but didn't speak; in fact, Harry realized with a jolt that, in their history together at Hogwarts, he couldn't recall hearing Millicent speak. Tracey didn't notice her companion's silence, or didn't care, as she proceeded to talk loudly in the corridor. "It's a shame we won't be able to embarrass that Mudblood Granger."

There were more negative remarks about Hermione's birth, and Harry began to think that maybe forcing his friend into this situation wasn't such a good idea after all. She was shivering in his arms, but to her credit, she stayed silent. Harry checked his watch again, pondering the situation. In seven minutes it would be curfew and it would take them at least that long for Harry and Hermione to get back to the common room.

The Slytherin contingent came upon the trophy room and stuck their heads inside, hissing as they noticed that no one was there to party after all. "I guess he was lying," Goyle said stupidly, having finally surmised that this was all a trick. "But wait..."

Harry snickered as he saw the object of Goyle's sudden fancy out of the corner of his eye. "Eddie, you brilliant, brilliant boy," he whispered to himself. Draco Malfoy was lying prone on the floor, dead center of the room, and he was undeniably stone cold drunk. He had also vomitted quite spectacularly on the ancient-looking carpet, and a few of the trophy cases had been destroyed as well. Eddie had followed his directions well and, even though Harry would have to dish out twenty galleons before he left on the train the next morning, he felt it was well worth it for what he was about to get away with.

Tracey was aghast as she looked at the destruction around the room. "What the hell is this?" She narrowed her eyes on Draco and her frown intensified further. "Did Draco do all of this?"

"Why would he send us here-" Goyle began, his eyes squinted in contemplation. He was immediately cut off by Daphne, who answered Tracey's question, ignoring Goyle altogether.

"No way he did it, you moron! It's obvious he's been set up!" It _was_ obvious, at least to Harry, who had done most of the setting up himself. Then again, there would be absolutely no proof, and Draco wouldn't remember anything but drinking himself into oblivion.

"I don't understand!" Tracey wailed, the powder on her over-applied makeup turning into wet slush as tears began falling down her face. Harry somehow doubted her tears were for Malfoy; instead, they were most likely for herself because she knew they were in deep trouble if they were caught. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know," Daphne sneered, seemingly calculating an exit strategy. "We need to get Malfoy to the common room before-"

Daphne didn't get a chance to finish her statement as it was far too late; Harry set the last phase of his masterful plan in motion, removing the cloak and whipping his wand up before the students could move. "_Cantis_!" Harry yelped, sounding a bit strangled as he tried to conceal his own voice. Millicent Bulstrode was struck in the back by the hex, as she was the closest Slytherin student to the door. Immediately, she turned, along with the others, but though she tried to get a glimpse of the person responsible, all she could see was the empty hall.

For a few moments, the fourth year students were silent, perhaps expecting a professor's presence. They could distantly hear the sound of four footsteps trailing away further down the hallway, but not much else except for the haggard breathing of Draco, who was beginning to stir. Daphne opened her mouth to ask confusedly what had just happened, when her voice was over-taken by the awe-inspiringly awful concerto Millicent had just begun belting like an opera singer in the trophy room. The girl in question looked aghast at what was happening to her, as it was totally out of her own control, and her friends began berating her to be quiet. By the time they realized it was a magical spell that had given Millicent the sudden inspiration to sing, they had already started a clamor that echoed resoundingly down the corridors. It was only a matter of moments before Filch was on the scene, and Tracey and Daphne turned to each other with indecision on their faces. After a moment's hesitation, they both nodded.

"Wait! Where are you going!" Crabbe yelled, as the two women ran quickly away from the scene of the crime. Goyle looked torn between helping his date and picking up his friend, but did neither, still puzzling out the situation in his own grey matter. Crabbe took a shot at trying to reenervate Draco and had very little success, as the blonde-haired Pureblood puked up putrid yellow bile, having already expelled the night's beverages on the floor and on his very expensive robes.

Gregory realized belatedly that this was the first time his date had spoken all evening. He also divined that this was the first time Draco hadn't produced a snide comment in months. A bed of rosebushes wouldn't be this uncomfortable. Goyle couldn't help but wonder how Master Lucius would react to his son's behavior, and despite the fact that he was in a world of trouble in his own right, he couldn't resist a brief, sad chuckle at his own expense.

Harry and Hermione, on the other hand, were running faster than Hermione thought possible with the cloak strung about their waist and shoulders. She was giggling uncontrollably, astounded at the situation she had seen developing and feeling a strange but strong urge to go back and laugh in Draco's face. Harry must have gone to great lengths to arrange his revenge, and she had to admit that, despite her aversion to rule-breaking, getting one over on Malfoy had been absolutely brilliant. She couldn't help but laugh even harder as she imagined one of the more sloshed students seeing two sets of legs running with no body.

Suddenly, Harry stopped her with a firm tug on her wrist, and he pressed her quickly into a nook behind a suit of armor. He held his index finger over her lips, warning her to be silent without speaking himself. Within seconds, Argus Filch came barrelling down the hallway, and as usual, he was screaming bloody murder. He had a triumphant look in his eyes, which promised punishment for anyone caught in the corridor (despite the fact that it was not yet curfew). His cat, fierce and proud, was nipping at the old Squib's heels, and they both looked ready to feast on the poor children in the trophy room. They paid no mind to Harry and Hermione, who were invisible and hidden by the armor.

The raven-haired boy took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. His heart was racing a mile a minute, but he couldn't resist cracking a grin. Hermione was smiling, and both of her round cheeks were bright red and crinkled with laughter. The cloak had obscured his vision of the girl, so he moved it gently to uncover their heads, intent on getting a closer look though they were still invisible from the neck down.

Hermione eyed him quizzically, as if unsure why they had not continued their exit and gone back to the common room before they landed in detention. Harry checked his watch again to see that there were scarcely two minutes for them to make it by curfew, but it was well worth the trouble to stand here just a little longer with Hermione's cute face looking up at him. There was a question in her glance, and Harry hesitated; if he was going to kiss her, as his lips ached to do, then he knew this time there would be no excuse, and no coming back from it.

"Harry, we're going to be late," Hermione murmured, her mind calculating the exact distance between her best friend's lips and her own. She sounded persuasive to Harry, encouraging him to move on, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the safety of their cozy little alcove. Harry's hand slowly came up from his side to her waist, and one arm tentatively wrapped itself around Hermione so that it was lightly tracing a line on the small of her back. "McGonagall will be livid-" she started, and then faltered. "You promised you'd get me back-"

"Do you trust me?" Harry asked softly, gracing his friend with a smile.

"Not really..." she started sarcastically. "We don't have time-"

Harry decided that there would be no convincing Hermione to trust him, he'd just have to take a chance; again, he resigned himself to losing the relationship he'd always held with Hermione, knowing that one wrong move would end their four years of friendship. He hoped she would forgive him if that was the case, but he would never forgive himself if he didn't act on his urges now. He knew that Ron had fancied Hermione for a while now, but for some insane reason those thoughts were conspicuously missing at the moment. In the end, looking at the young woman biting her lip anxiously made kissing her all too irresistable.

He leaned forward and, before he lost his nerve, before she could slap him or push him away, Harry firmly pressed his lips against Hermione's. They both sank into the kiss, Harry initiating each subtle movement, and Hermione reciprocating as it became apparent that Harry wasn't going to simply pull away this time. Harry relaxed his posture, and they both leaned against the wall behind the suit of armor, their faces flushed and both sets of eyes open. Green met brown, and Harry was floored by the fact that Hermione was actually returning his kiss. It was at this point, while their tongues had just started to touch, that Harry relaxed into the kiss and lost control of his own body, falling heavily into the suit of armor behind him.

He slipped out of the cloak completely, and scratched his elbow quite roughly on the sharp metal, but the small rivulet of blood was unimportant compared to the racket created by the armor crashing to the floor. Immediately, he turned around, and it was with some trepidation that he found the person he'd least like to see standing directly in front of him, glancing back and forth between Harry and Hermione with no small amount of confusion, uncertainty, and perhaps most frightening, _hurt_.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was not impressed. While typically this was common knowledge, as it was well-known that he loathed teaching the neanderthals he was burdened with, in this particular instance, he could not believe his misfortune. His hair hung heavily in his eyes, as he'd not taken the time to prepare himself before bolting out of his office, but no amount of raven bangs could disguise the obliterating truth - that his students had completely lost their minds.<p>

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" he bellowed, causing Crabbe and Goyle to both step back fearfully. Millicent continued singing merrily enough, but her eyes were full of tears and she seemed like she would scream for help if only her voice box would obey her for one second. The two bookends (as even Snape had taken to calling them) stood idly by, doing much of nothing to stop the girl from howling or to...

Snape blinked. Draco Malfoy was covered in vomit and did not look capable of cleaning it off. The entire trophy room was destroyed; glass that was older than Dumbledore had been shattered into a million pieces, and more than a few of the trophies had been crushed by the falling cabinets. Severus spared a brief glance at a familiar-looking trophy that beared the real name of his one-time Master, but it was surprisingly unscathed. Snape was too busy putting his verbal tirade together to check all of the damages.

Crabbe opened his mouth, but he shut it when he saw the glare on Snape's face. Goyle was a bit braver, and actually got some words out before he was cut off. "Professor, I can explain everything-"

"_Oh_, I'm sure you can," Snape began, his pale face made fearsome by the lack of light in the room and the terrible expression he was wearing. "The consequences of your actions - or inaction - will be most dire, Mr. Goyle, but it is not your explanation I require at the moment. It is your silence that will determine the extent of your punishment."

Goyle did not immediately understand what his Head of House was saying, as his mind had been processing alcohol rather than information, and he belligerently asked Snape to repeat himself. Snape's sneer became quite a bit nastier, and he stepped rather close to the two boys, who had nearly pressed themselves against the wall in their haste to flee from his anger. "Are you truly that foolish, or are you so hot to trot that your brain has melted in the last four hours?" Goyle opened his mouth reflexively, but Snape snarled, "Quiet!"

Goyle's mouth clenched tightly, and he said no more, but Snape wasn't finished. "The house elves will reduce this mess to nothing more than a few unnoticeable scratches, and unless the Headmaster asks them outright, they will say nothing. You, also, will say nothing. If I catch even one word of this being spoken by the four of you, so help me, you will be _begging_ me for a chance to scrub cauldrons!"

As he finished this threat, he seemed to realize Millicent's voice was rapidly becoming raw, and he silently removed the hex from the girl; as soon as she could breathe properly, she broke into freakishly masculine sobs that made even Snape shiver disgustedly. She also ran from the room in the direction of the dungeons, which Snape considered no small blessing.

"Now, the two of you will return Mr. Malfoy to his common room at once. I will make sure that no one interrupts you on the way." He directed the two students to heft their friend onto their shoulders using magic to levitate each arm seperately around the stocky Slytherins. They didn't seem disturbed by the weight of the student, but the sticky, yellow substance covering Draco's robes splashed sickeningly onto their own clothes. They frowned heavily, but didn't risk a complaint so soon after getting off the hook.

Unfortunately, they didn't make it more than a few steps before Argus Filch ran into the room, a curse on the tip of his tongue. Snape, never one to be surprised, and especially not by a Squib, whipped his wand up and hit the poor elderly man with a Confundus that left him in a heap on the ground. Ms. Norris hissed menacingly, but Snape swept his wand in a circle and the cat was frozen in place, not too dissimilar to the petrification the feline had dealt with two years previous. Even as a statue, the cat looked ready to scratch someone's eyes out.

"You entered the trophy room and the cat was petrified." Snape thought for a moment, and then a smirk slowly crossed his face. "You're certain that Harry Potter was the culprit."

Instantly, Snape stunned the caretaker and waved his hands to encourage the boys to get on with their business. They looked at each other apprehensively, but trusting their demented Head of House, they did what they were told and made their exit. Snape took a good look around before eventually moving to follow them, but he found himself surprisingly unable to leave the trophy room.

His anger built into a crescendo, both bushy eyebrows flying up into his hairline and his mouth forming a furious yell. "What the-"

"Good evening, Severus," came the distinguished voice of the Hogwarts Headmaster, who silenced the cranky Potion's Professor with merely a greeting. Snape knew he was in deep trouble, perhaps quite a bit worse than the students would have been if Filch had not been Confounded less than a minute ago. Snape did not miss the Headmaster's disdainful glance at the caretaker, who was lying in the fetal position beside his cat. With a brief flick of his wand, Dumbledore restored both of them to life, though Snape was impressed that both simply ignored him and left the trophy room. He could not immediately determine whether Albus had erased their memories of events or merely allowed Severus' Confundus to take effect, but judging by Ms. Norris' lack of acknowledgement (or hissing), Snape assumed the former.

"Headmaster," Snape said tentatively, trying to stop his lip from curling up reflexively. "I can explain everything-"

* * *

><p>Harry sighed, rubbing his temples in preparation for a headache that had nothing to do with alcohol. In fact, if there was any firewhiskey in sight, he wouldn't have minded a couple dozen shots of the vile substance. It would have helped to deal with the nauseating feeling of remorse that he was just feeling the full effects of.<p>

He had half a mind to ask Ron how he had recovered from being drunk so quickly, but he belatedly remembered one of the Weasleys telling him that firewhiskey wore off very quickly. He smiled, thinking that Draco Malfoy would be coming to his senses any time now, and would have to deal with the repercussions of Harry's actions.

"Why are you smiling? I thought we were friends, Harry!" By the angry look on Ron's face and the frustrated look on Hermione's, the coming conversation did not bode well for the continued friendship of the Gryffindor trio. "You knew!" he accused, one long finger pointed at Harry.

The red-head did not elaborate on what exactly Harry knew, but Hermione was quick to pick up on what had not been said. "He knew _what_ exactly, Ron?" Harry did not turn to look at his female friend, but he could almost feel the glare she was undoubtedly focusing on Ron. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

In the face of adversity, he waffled, his cheeks turning as red as his ears had just been. "Uh, nothing, Hermione. It's just..."

"Just what? That you have a crush on me?" If anything, Ron's face turned redder, as his embarrassment became apparent. "If I'm not mistaken, you were just caught kissing Padma in the entrance hall not three hours ago." Harry held his breath, certain he was going to be on the receiving end of a similar declaration, but Hermione's ire was for Ron only it seemed. "Do I look stupid to you?" she asked, and then tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

"Well, no..."

"I didn't think so! You're the one that's been acting stupid, Ron, because you had ample time to ask me to the ball! Where's your Gryffinder courage?" she scoffed. "You complain that someone asked me first, but you didn't bother asking at all! Then, you had Harry choose a date for you like a _coward_!" She rolled her eyes, naive to the sudden shadow that fell over Ron's face. "It's no wonder no one told you _who_ I was taking to the ball, as you'd have had a coniption on the spot!

The brief mention of Viktor caused Ron to wince, and for a moment, Harry thought his friend's temper was going to get the best of him. Unfortunately for Harry, Ron didn't seem interested in taking her entire rant on the chin and he immediately looked to bring Harry back into the spotlight. "Well, Harry has been kissing girls like mad all night, and you certainly haven't been calling him stupid!"

Strangely, Hermione smiled at Ron's words. "Let's see," she said, putting a palm to halt Ron's comments. "Harry kissed the girl he went to the ball with because he was, as best I could tell from sitting by him, a very good date. He did exactly what _she_ wanted, and was a gentleman up until the time that Katie decided to ruin it all for him. I don't consider that his fault." Fortunately, she had not seen Harry and Katie's prolonged scuffle in the snow, or she'd know her last comment was false.

"Oh, and I guess that means it's _my_ fault?"

A fourth voice joined their argument, and Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he realized Katie had come back to further exacerbate the situation. From the looks of it, she had taken Harry and Hermione's kiss even worse than Ron had and, unlike the redhead, she did not look cowed by the expression on Hermione's face.

"Excuse me, but I don't think Harry spent the night sobbing into her spiked punch!"

The gasp from Katie proved the truth behind Hermione's statement, though Harry had not been aware of any tears on Katie's part. Apparently, he had not been aware of the growing dislike between the two Gryffindor girls either.

"You've got some nerve," Katie laughed, though it was suspiciously absent of any humor. "You tell Ron off for kissing Padma, like he's some kind of playboy for getting one kiss, but you make an exception for Harry, who has kissed Parvati, me, you, and Fleur Delacour in one night!"

There was a pregnant pause as each of them took in Katie's words. Katie looked victorious, though Harry supposed she had earned the right to screw his night up this time. For a moment, she looked at Harry as if challenging him to say something, but he was in no Harry to butt in.

"Oh, you don't believe me?" she asked quite uselessly, as Hermione _definitely _looked like she believed her.

Harry's green eyes were moving back and forth between Hermione and Katie, and for the first time all night, he felt entirely unprepared for what was to come.

"Ha," Ron roared back, clapping Harry on the shoulder roughly. "You're just having us on..."

Despite himself, Harry was offended. "And what is _that _supposed to mean?"

"There's no way you kissed Fleur Delacour, Harry," Ron laughed, his face turning a shade alarmed the longer Harry stared at him. "You... kissed Fleur Dela_cour_?" When Harry made no move to dissuade his friend, Ron looked caught between slapping his friend on the back for kissing Fleur and punching him in the nose for betraying him. "Well, what about Hermione then?"

Quite the opposite, Hermione's face was turning red, and her hands were trembling just slightly as she idly fiddled with her Gryffindor badge. Harry knew that he had deeply hurt his friend, and though he felt an sudden urge to say something to defend himself, he knew it would only make the truth of it all the more difficult to bear. Hermione was going to hate him either way. When her wand arm moved suddenly toward her robes, Harry's heart fell somewhere into his stomach.

He closed his eyes, figuring it was best to take the hit and hope he didn't crack his skull open on the floor. When there were two flashes of light, he blinked to find that Ron and Katie had just crumpled to the ground, unconscious thanks to two surprisingly well-cast stunners from Hermione. He brought his eyes timidly up to his best friend's brown orbs and found that they were not focused on him, but on a classroom door not far down the hallway.

"We need to talk," she said. Inwardly, he felt like rebelling, perhaps even running down the halls to get away, but in the end, Harry nodded meekly. "No time like the present," she finished, side-stepping the bodies, and levitating them into the classroom with a whispered spell.

Dimly, it occured to Harry that it was already passed curfew, but he did not voice his worries to Hermione, who seemed intent on getting to the classroom before she spoke again. He did not think their conversation would be a pleasant one.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Eight-<em>


	9. Chapter Nine

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Nine**

"I'm disappointed in you, Severus," the old wizard began, his face shrouded by the darkness of the hall. "This was a perfect opportunity to teach your students a lesson." Snape laughed darkly, thinking to himself that there was nothing he wanted more than to stop teaching students, but apparently, Dumbledore was prepared for that line of thinking. "You understand plainly why you cannot leave the school, and yet you refuse to use your position to your own advantage."

Severus' ears perked up a bit, and he scolded himself for acting like a common niffler. "Excuse me, Headmaster, but I don't quite catch your meaning..."

"These children here," Albus said, waving a long-fingered hand in the direction of Slytherin's dormitories, "are the future of our magical society, whether we are here to see the day or not." He folded his ancient hands together and placed them contemplatively against his lips, and Severus knew the wisened old alchemist was synthesizing every word he spoke. "Have you forgotten the sins of our own childhood? If we cannot change now, knowing what we do about the pressing need for it in the not-so-distant future, then we cannot expect our students to continue changing in our absence." Stepping more fully into the light, Dumbledore smiled. "After all, it wasn't long ago that you came to me to make a change of your own..."

Severus was taken aback, though he outwardly maintained his anger. "Sir, I came to you to get my_ revenge_, and you gave me an opportunity to get back at the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore scoffed at the word 'revenge' and turned away from the Professor. "No, Severus, you are sadly mistaken."

"How so, _Headmaster_?" he sneered, unable to completely clamp down on his attitude. Dumbledore had a way of provoking the worst anger in Severus without actually allowing him a release for it. A familiar throb above his eyebrow began anew, and his legs started moving of their own volition. He paced back and forth, even as the ancient wizard stood still, remarkably unphased by Severus' sudden mood swing. "After he took _everything_ from me, I swore that I would not rest until he was gone for good, and I have done everything possible to remain in a place where I could make a difference on his inevitable return. When I came to you, I knew you were the one person who would understand my mistake, and give me a chance to rectify it-"

"_Ah_," Dumbledore interrupted, finally turning back around to face his companion. "You see, Severus, when you came to me you were not so different from the man you are now. But you had tears in your eyes then, and not just _hate in your heart_! Yes, you loved that woman, and the loss you felt justifies some degree of righteous anger on her behalf, but she had made her choice to be with James long before you had the courage to tell her how you felt! For that, I'm certain you have suffered greatly, but why project your own suffering onto her son?" Dumbledore seemed genuinely curious now. "You must see the resemblance between Harry and Lily, Severus. He is nothing like his father!"

This time, Severus scoffed, clenching his wand tightly in his hand just to have some way to expel his inner turmoil. "He is _everything_ like his father! He is as crafty and cunning as any of my Slytherins, and twice as reckless! For Merlin's sake, Albus, do you think that Draco Malfoy actually-"

"-got drunk and made a mess of himself and our trophy room?" Dumbledore laughed, walking across the room and idly checking the condition of its antiques. "I can recall an incident with his father and his mother in their seventh year involving the greenhouse and a particularly strong strain of cannabis..." Unknowingly repeating Snape's actions upon entering the room earlier, Dumbledore spared Tom Riddle's trophy a short, but indeed noticeable, frown. "As they say, the apple does not fall far from the tree." The Potions' master prepared to defend his student, despite the fact that Draco had most assuredly brought it on himself, but the Headmaster continued before he could get a word in. "No, Severus, I do not think he is responsible for this destruction, and that is the only reason that I have allowed him to leave without assigning detentions that would last until _next_ Christmas. However, that does not mean that your own reprehensible behavior should go without punishment."

Severus bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from whining like the children he whole-heartedly abhorred. "What, _pray tell_, do you plan to do with me then, Headmaster? Shall I write lines?" His tight-lipped frown turned into a false smile. "Perhaps you will have me clean out cauldrons with my bare hands? Or should I return to my office to grade essays while intoxicated teenagers run rampant throughout the school?"

Albus shook his head, considering his next move. He could allow his Professor to sink back into his dungeons, or he could really try to initiate change in Snape. Dumbledore was silent for a moment, calculating the potential merit of the Slytherin Head of House becoming the man he always could have been. He realized that, if there was to be a kinder, gentler Severus Snape, it was up to him to provoke that change of heart, but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the effort. He was getting older, he admitted, but he doubted he would have tried as hard in his youth anyway. He did feel that everyone deserved a second chance, but he also knew that Severus had been given dozens, if not hundreds, of opportunities to improve his behavior toward his students. It was enough to make one sick to his stomach...

Albus frowned heavily, recalling the tuna fish he had consumed earlier in the evening, along with three glasses of Chardonnay that hadn't quite sit right on top of the fish.

A short, particularly nasty fart leaked from beneath Dumbledore's robes, but he did little to acknowledge it, continuing to berate his non-plussed subordinate. "It is true that many of our students have been acting foolish," he admitted, "but is it so wrong to allow them a chance to _enjoy themselves_, knowing that their adult years may very well be stolen from them? War does not allow children the time to _grow_. I learned that myself a century ago, Severus, and it is a lesson that, at times, I have forgotten." The great wizard remembered Harry, who he had last seen chasing Hermione down the hallway leading away from the trophy room. He smiled. "Teenagers running rampant they may be, but it won't be long before these same teens have to make decisions that determine the outcomes of their lives. And so, I have allowed them this night, hoping to encourage interaction between the other schools as well as the students from our own Hoggy-Woggy-Hogwarts."

"But why, Headmaster?" Snape spoke up, having been carefully watching Dumbledore. His nostrils flared, his anger coming to a boil once again. "What do you hope to gain from letting children _be _children? You should be buckling down on these neanderthals, teaching them to respect _themselves _as well as their superiors!"

"Is everything black and white with you, Snape?"

It was a testament to Dumbledore's kindness that Snape, one of the most callous men of his generation, was actually _hurt_ by the use of only his last name.

"Sir?" he asked, not entirely leaving the quiver out of his voice.

"You are not their _superior, _Severus, you are their teacher! Why are the grade requirements so stringent in your NEWT-level classes? Because you hope to weed out anyone who is not so dedicated that they spend a vast majority of their time outside of class reading their Potions' book..."

"Which-"

"Which you picked out, and is written in language not unlike Pacific Mermish! Anyone who achieves an Exceeds Expectations in your OWL course should be an able apothecarist within a year!"

Snape nearly laughed, now certain the Headmaster was going senile. "Have you sat in on one of my classes this semester? Neville Longbottom single-handedly destroyed a month's worth of Russian's Dragon Tails in half a class period!"

"One bad apple _does not _spoil the barrel. Furthermore, your method of teaching assumes that all of your students are bad before they even dice a root!"

"Four years that boy has been in my class, and he's yet to make an Outstanding on one potion! Even Potter, for all of his cheek, gets one right every once in a while."

It was true. Harry had finished his last few Potions' admirably, as if he was trying to impress someone. Unfortunately, Snape would never be impressed by a Potter, and the boy had coupled with Granger for those class periods, so Severus blamed all of Harry's success on the bushy-haired brunette. He sneered, a little sickened to think of a budding romance between the two. The poor boy probably had a crush on the bucked-toothed nightmare. A strange smell permeated the room, odorous enough that Snape found himself calculating what exactly it was. His first thought was deviled eggs and catfish, but he was distracted by Dumbledore's voice.

"You don't give him enough credit, but I won't waste my time convincing you of his natural aptitude for magic; it's obvious enough to anyone _without_ bias. However, I do wish that you would take some of the time you spend punishing good students and use it to curb your Slytherin's reckless, sociopathic behavior!"

Snape chuckled darkly. "As you wish, Headmaster..."

Dumbledore shook his head, relatively certain he had just wasted his time, though he at least nipped the persecution of his two favorite Gryffindors in the bud. He turned and eased his way out of the room he had been barring Severus from leaving just minutes earlier, shaking his head. A little annoyed with the Professor he had attempted to cultivate like a tulip, he had no qualms about breaking wind. "I want you to sit here and think about what you've done for some time, Severus." With a wave of his ancient hand, the same ward appeared behind him, and he raced down the hall, humming a merry tune that just barely alleviated the noise from Snape's wild, and angry shouts. The Headmaster's stomach went into further convulsions as he laughed, but he also realized the potential risk to his own well-being, and decided that it would be best to leave the premises as quickly as possible and find a bathroom.

Fortunately for the Head of Slytherin house, he knew a charm that produced a pleasant smell, and he did not have to deal with an old man's flatulence for too long. He didn't bother breaking the ward, preferring the silence of the trophy room. It was probably for the best that he didn't run through the hallways trying to track down Dumbledore and get his revenge, though he could think of a few, particularly enjoyable ways to do it. He idly wondered if Dumbledore could sustain a long fart if his anal cavity was breached by a walking stick. The thought was enough to put him in a good mood (or at least, what sufficed for one in Severus' opinion) and he relaxed a bit as he left the trophy room.

His robes barely even billowed behind him so slow was his progression toward the dungeons. Lost in a reverie, he did not recognize the female presence in the hallway until he had already surpassed her, and it took a few attempts by his associate before he turned and acknowledged the woman.

He sneered when he saw who it was. Batty Professor Trelawney blinked at him from behind her humungous glasses. He couldn't shake the strange feeling that overcame him, and he was reminded of the night she had divined the prophecy. He always felt weird around the woman, as she had indirectly led to the murder of his childhood friend and pushed him further down the tenuous route he had taken since coming to Dumbledore all those years ago. Deciding to be his typical rude self, he nearly snarled at his fellow Professor, snapping, "_What do you want_? What brings you so far from your tower, Sybil?" Before she could answer, he continued his cutting remarks. "Let me hazard a guess. You've run out of sherry again and you've come to pilfer my Potions' ingredients for a quick _buzz_."

"How _ever_ did you divine the truth, Severus?" she snarked back, surprising him enough that he unconsciously stopped frowning for a moment. "Was it the empty bottle in my hand," she said, waving the container, which retained only a tiny sliver of alcohol, "or was it the fact I had my other hand on the _doorknob_ to your storeroom?"

She slung the door upon at the end of her statement and entered the vast closet without another word. Severus followed her inside, determined to give at least as good as he got. The fact that it was the barmiest Professor at Hogwarts goading him into a reaction was not entirely lost on Snape. "I had assumed someone with your penchant for predicting the _future _would realize how quickly I'd react to important ingredients being stolen-"

"_Important ingredients_?" she laughed, turning to face Snape once again. He noticed that the bags under her eyes were sunken in slightly, a sure sign of sleeplessness, and, after a moment, his own eyes looked down to find her hand placed strangely on his forearm. "Sherry barely makes me tipsy now." This was most assuredly a lie, as she certainly looked and smelled drunk, and Severus had enough experience in that area of expertise to know when someone was _past the limit_. "I know you keep all the good stuff in your office, Sevvy," she whispered. His bushy eyebrows flew up to his hairline. If he didn't know any better, he would think that Trelawney was flirting with him.

Despite himself, he felt a blush running up his neck and he straightened his robes slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about..." He struggled to think, his thoughts suddenly lethargic, and so he was entirely unprepared when Sybil stepped forward, grabbed him by the robes, and shoved him up against the nearest row of shelves.

He felt her rather thin stomach press against his own, and a small, often-ignored voice in the back of his mind explained in detail how large her chest seemed up close. She was wearing a purple, V-necked sweater that presented a rather enticing view, though he had never had reason to look before now. She ran a finger down his palm, her hot breath falling on his neck. "Would you like me to read you your future?"

"That... won't be necessary," he said, trying to move out of the woman's surprisingly strong grasp. She ignored him, pressing a brief kiss against his mouth, which expressed his terror quite plainly, though Trelawney didn't seem to notice. Her own mouth stretched open now, and from within came a voice that did not sound like the odd, whimsical drawl that she usually spoke with.

"_When brave young men and women fight,_

_Divided by their own regrets,_

_No sleight of hand will hide the dice,_

_When shallow pride falls on their heads,_

_But in the warming, morning light,_

_The youth renewed by truth forget,_

_The things that go bump in the night_

_Like snakes inside your beds_..."

She finished her rather muted prophecy by laughing, and Snape was forced to wonder if she was making it all up as she went or if this was yet another unfortunately true prophecy. Either way, the hand latching onto his waist wasn't taking no for an answer, and Trelawney pressed fervent kisses against his neck before he could formulate a response. Mumbling, the Seer whispered, "Who says I can't remember what I predict?"

Severus found himself longing for the Ogden's Finest in his office, knowing that what was about to take place would be significantly easier if he was pissed. Noting a particular mushroom hidden in a neighboring cabinet, he quickly consumed it under the guise of pulling off his shirt. Very soon, Trelawney's guttural moans echoed down the hallway, and even the few adults patrolling the immediate area shuffled away as quickly as possible.

No one had the balls to confront whoever had made _that_ God awful noise.

Ron was the first to recover from Hermione's stunning spell, and as a lingering effect of the firewhiskey, he retched upon awakening. Fortunately, Katie didn't see him make a mess of his robes, and he was able to adequately remove the vomit before she stirred. "What the heck just happened?" she asked, rolling over onto her stomach. Ron's eyes shifted from the floor onto Katie's arse, which was slowly rising into the air as she scrambled to her feet. Once she was facing him, however, he turned his attention to making some sense of their situation.

"I'm not sure, but I think Hermione knocked us both out," he said, looking around the otherwise empty corridor. He used a spell to pick up the armor that Harry had knocked over earlier, placing it carefully back where it had been ensconced before giving Katie an encouraging smile. "That's nothing compared to what she's going to do to Harry though!"

She frowned, but her eyes at least seemed mirthful. "No less than he deserves," she muttered, wiping a bit of dust from her robes. "Of all people, I never thought Hermione would be caught kissing behind a suit of armor! One day, I knew someone was gonna grab Harry and shove him in a broom closet, but Granger's a prude! You know?" Katie narrowed her eyes at Ron, who seemed to waffle under her scrutiny. "Harry must have lied to her to get that far. _Ooh_, that sly dog..."

Ron thought that she was being a bit harsh on his friend, who, by all accounts, seemed to be getting ganged up on by every good looking girl in the school tonight and was probably suffering for all of it with Hermione. He didn't envy the Boy Who Lived for once. Fortunately for him, he did not voice his concerns, and merely nodded agreeably. "Yeah," he smirked slightly, actually enjoying the opportunity to throw his friends under the bus for a change with no repercussions, "I guess Hermione doesn't _know it all _after all!"

Katie giggled, slapping him on the shoulder. "I never thought she did. If she'd take her nose out of a book every once in a while, maybe she'd realize how big of a prat her best friend's turning out to be!"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, ready to defend himself, but he didn't need to. "Not you," Katie assured him, her hand mysteriously finding its way back to his bicep. "You're not prat like _him_. Honestly, I don't know how you can stand it sometimes..." she trailed off, looking away from him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not really sure what she was talking about. Did she mean to say that he shouldn't spend so much time with his best friends? He knew that seemed a little rude, but he couldn't exactly fault her for harboring a grudge. Hermione had just stunned her, running off with the boy Katie liked, so there was bound to be bad blood between _them_, if no one else. It didn't really have anything to do with him, and he preferred it that way, but he wasn't going to allow her to say anything too mean-

"Look," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not going to say anything bad about your friends, Ron, but... how many times have they pulled you into their hair-brained schemes? Dark Lord _this_ and Dark Lord _that_. It's all nonsense!" Ron had never actually seen Voldemort in person, but he had certainly been close enough to realize _something _evil was there. However, her next words ripped all thoughts of Harry, Hermione and Voldemort from his mind. "Maybe you should hang out with some of the _older _students some time?" She looked suspiciously hopeful, and Ron began to actually get his hopes up himself. "I've got a friend in fifth year that would really go for you!"

Just that quickly, Ron's hopes deflated.

"Well," he admitted, trying not to look petulant, "Fred and George don't really like their _kid brother _being around all the time, and I don't know Angelina and Alicia like you do... y'know, since I'm not on the team or anything."

"Oh, pish posh," she laughed. "Quidditch isn't even going on right now, and by the time next year rolls around you'll be a shoo-in for keeper anyway. That's the position you like, right?"

He was honestly surprised she remembered, as he couldn't recall her ever being around him when he practiced. "How'd you know that?" he asked, a little amazed that Katie knew _anything _about him, much less that he loved playing Keeper.

"Fred said something about it once," she said, offhandedly. "We were talking about candidates to replace Wood. Angelina recommended McClaggen, that git who always hits on the sixth years, but your brother said you were much better. _Oh_," she said, nudging him with her bare shoulder. "He also said that you weren't as big of a git as Cormac," she smirked, "but I wasn't sure about that until tonight."

He laughed, nudging her back. He was enjoying himself, and even if Katie wasn't interested in him, he was out of the dorms after hours with a pretty girl, which was much better than being cooped up in the tower with McGonagall babysitting at the door. "Hey!" he said, having finally realized how late it was. "It's _way _past curfew, and I don't know - well, honestly, I don't _care_ what happened to Harry or Hermione. What do you think _we _should do?"

Katie looked at him quizzically, a gleam of mischief in her brown eyes. "What do _you _think we should do?"

"Well, we could hurry back and maybe we won't lose too many points for being out after curfew." Ron thought for a moment and sighed. "Actually, you'd probably be better off if you went back by yourself. When she catches _me_, I'm going to get detention for the rest of the year! Maybe she won't take that many points. She might take us out of the running for the House Cup!"

He was beginning to sound a bit panicked, but Katie laughed it off. "Oh, well. We've lost plenty of times before, so it's not really that big of a deal. Now, the Quidditch cup on the other hand... that's a _big deal_!" She cracked up before she could finish, and Ron even smiled, despite the fact he was getting worried about the impending wrath of their Head of House. "We Gryffindors do not go down without a hell of a fight!"

He could appreciate her bravery, particularly when she was brave enough to reveal this much skin. "You like Quidditch that much, huh?" Ron said, trying to hold eye contact with the girl, and having marginal success. Harry had told him girls liked that, and since he had obviously been hitting it off with the opposite sex, even unintentionally, Ron decided it would be fruitful to follow in his friend's footsteps. Katie nodded, and she began telling Ron about her first game, and how excited she had been to be a _second year _playing on a House team.

"You should have seen me, Ron. Hooch throws the Quaffle into the air, and I just stood there like a moron as Holloway grabbed it for Hufflepuff and ran it straight down the pitch. Wood was screaming at me to move, and next thing I know, I'm being pulled off the grass by George. It was his first game too, and he was laughing his arse off. A bludger had knocked me _slam_ off my broom!"

She punctuated her statement by punching Ron in the back of his shoulder. The redhead chuckled accordingly, but inwardly he was trying not to pout. Katie obviously packed a heck of a punch.

"I had a knot the size of a grapefruit on my forehead, but the next time Hooch started us off I was ready. I blew past Holloway and snatched the quaffle, and I threw a perfect arching pass to Angelina, and the rest... as they say... _is history_." Ron laughed at her words, as she had imitated ghostly Professor Binns. "It felt pretty cool to be the youngest player on the team for a while. Of course, Harry ruined that when he made the team as an ickle firstie, but he is damned good in the air, so it's not like I can begrudge him that. Everything else, however," she chuckled. "I definitely _begrudge_."

"I understand," Ron said. "I think it was pretty rotten what he did to you, y'know. It doesn't really seem like Harry though," he admitted, despite the fact that Katie frowned. "He's never even kissed a girl before tonight." She turned her head, looking at him strangely.

"Really? Not even a peck on the lips?"

He scoffed, a smile on his face. "Not even a peck on the _cheek_, Katie."

She hummed in response, her long fingernails coming to rest against her lips. "That's strange. Parvati was talking before the ball and I heard her say Harry was a really good kisser. It's part of the reason I was in such a hurry to come between them; she made it sound like they were becoming really close. 'Course I'm a fool for even _bothering..._"

Ron was surprised at Katie's revelation. "You mean Parvati said they had been dating?"

"Yeah," Katie admitted, chuckling. "She said that they had been dating since the end of third year, because he asked her on the train ride home! She said he was too scared of being embarrassed if she said no and that, of course, she just had to say _yes!_"

Ron couldn't resist shaking his head ruefully. "Hate to break it to you, Katie, but Harry's never had a girlfriend before and he only asked Parvati out on a date because he _had _to. He was too scared to even have a conversation with a girl-"

"Like you?" Katie giggled, swatting him lightly. "Don't try to convince me you're some ladies man, Ron. I like you better when you tell the truth."

Ron's ego grew exponentially. "I'll try to remember that," he said, for lack of anything better to say. It came out surprisingly smooth, so he considered himself lucky to have retained his cool. Katie was looking amazing in the moonlight provided by the Hogwarts halls, and as they walked aimlessly, mindlessly navigating the halls, he realized that this was probably the most awesome night of his life.

"So, you wanna make out?"

His preoccupied mind that he didn't hear Katie until she had repeated herself. Even then, he didn't think he heard her correctly.

"Make _out?" _he said, trying to avoid screeching like a boy caught in puberty. Then he realized he _was _a boy who had just gone through puberty, and he blanched. "Are you... _sure?_"

"What? Am I not attractive enough for your tastes?" She posed at the edge of a window. He couldn't resist the soft moan he emitted, and Katie laughed at the hungry look he made.

"Of course you are, Katie! You're definitely one of the hottest girls at Hogwarts-"

He knew he shouldn't have been quite so truthful, and he clamped his lips shut immediately, already aware how quickly and how powerfully Katie could punch when she was angry. However, rather than get angry, Katie looked even _more _interested in a kissing contest. "I told you I liked you when you tell the truth. Come here," she said, stepping a bit closer to him.

Ron smiled hesitantly. He stuttered, "I'm n-not sure this is the best idea," but, seeing that Katie was leaning forward with her eyes closed, he obliged her by closing the distance between them. Just as their lips touched, the two Gryffindors sprung apart, both sets of eyes flying toward the source of the noise they had just heard. At first, Katie mistakenly thought it was Ms. Norris on her trail, but Ron's reaction told it all.

Looking at the Deputy Headmistress, who had just transformed from a cat back into a strict Professor, Katie realized that she should have taken Ron up on his offer to let her go back by herself. Now that they had been caught kissing in the hall, she knew that a potentially very nasty Howler from the Bell household was going to be the least of her worries. It didn't take a crystal ball to see that many, many detentions were in her near future.

"Bell," the old witch said, somehow containing her temper. "_Weasley_," she added, on the verge of spitting. "Care to take a walk?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said in tandem, both of them hanging their heads. As they walked, they never noticed a light on in the closest classroom and they never heard the raised voice coming from within.

Hermione Granger had never been so angry in her entire life. A distant voice, somewhat reminscent of her stern mother, did not hesitate to remind her that she was not yet sixteen, and should not be worrying about _romance_ at her age,but Hermione couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Her teenage heart had been crushed, snapped and shattered, and despite her rather exquisite intellect, she couldn't pinpoint _what _exactly had her so troubled.

She knew she should be cross with Harry, because, quite simply put, he deserved every bit of it. He had begged her to be his date, reneging almost immediately, before dragging her along to his party anyway, and she had reluctantly complied because, though she couldn't quite admit it to herself at the time, she had really enjoyed their first kiss. She had not revealed that to Harry, however, as she had just come to the realization herself and wasn't in any rush to ruin their friendship by freaking out over one kiss. "_Which is exactly what I'm doing_," she scolded herself.

It wasn't often that she disagreed with herself. Hermione was a determined individual, and coming to Hogwarts as a Muggleborn student had only strengthened her resolve, and a multitude of studies had reinforced that particular character trait over time. However, she couldn't ignore the hot summer nights she had spent at home with countless romance novels, indulging her pre-adolescent curiosity. Her mother had not been pleased to see her daughter loafing about the house, and perhaps for that reason, she had taken to reading the fluffy novels in plain sight, rebelling against her over-bearing and judgmental mother.

Still, the words held within the stories often invoked thoughts of finding a potential love interest of her own. She knew she was still very young, and for that reason she honestly didn't have any aspirations to settle down early, but it had become apparent over the last two years that she was extremely close to Ron and Harry. She had thought that nothing would change their relationship. She had thought that they would never see her as anything more than their best friend.

She had been _wrong._

Harry wasn't quite trembling as he awaited Hermione's rant, but he was certainly worried. He knew that he should 'man up' and take the verbal beating, so he had decided to meekly follow his friend to the nearest classroom. He wondered, not for the first time, if the Dursleys were the reason he usually took punishment on the chin. He was used to being in trouble, and over the years, he had learned to just get on with it. Usually, he could close himself off, knowing that he had done nothing to deserve their ire and that they would stop bothering him the instant they had something more interesting to do.

However, this was not Number Four, Privet Drive, and he wasn't dealing with Petuna, Vernon and Dudley. He actually cared about the scandalized young woman in front of him, and if he could turn back the hours and _Reparo _the damage he'd done to their relationship, well... he wouldn't be just sitting there, looking and feeling useless. Harry was a man of action, and Hermione's sudden silence felt like a punishment in and of itself; the inevitable argument was delayed purposely, as Hermione knew her friend would be getting anxious, and that he _hated _being anxious.

Harry had thought the night would end on a high note. He had also been _wrong._

"You're my best friend," he blurted, surprising Hermione. He continued rapidly, on the verge of panicking. "I hope you know that I would never intentionally try to hurt you, and that I regret anything I said or did that... _hurt _you," he trailed off, looking forlorn to Hermione's narrowed eyes. "I asked you to the party because I thought we could have a great time together, and I ignored you to attend to all the plans I made. I'm stupid," he said, waving his head. "I know that now, but it's too late to change it. I tried to woo every girl in the school tonight, and I ended up destroying the only _real _relationship I had..."

Hermione bit her lip, but she turned away to hide her indecision. "If you think for one moment that apologizing is going to help your case, then you've got another thing coming!"

He shook his head, looking down. Just as quickly, he turned his head, trying to catch his best friend's eye. "Look at me, Hermione," he said. When she didn't make any move to face him, he sighed. "Please," he begged, "at least let me tell my side of the story."

"Go on," she offered, still facing the opposite wall. Her eyes scanned the open room, trying to focus on the broken desks and chairs instead of her broken heart.

"I'll admit I had a really good time with Parvati at the ball. I wanted so bad to please everyone leading up to it that I kind of lost sight of the prick I was becoming." Harry walked across the room, his anxiety once again spurring him into motion. "It was so much fun being the center of attention that I actually forgot for a minute..."

Hermione noticed his pause and didn't allow him the opportunity to take a break. "Forgot what?"

"Everything! I forgot that I _hate _being the center of attention! I forgot that I _loathe _everyone's stares! For a few hours, I was just a kid having fun, and for that reason... I know I _wouldn't _take back everything I've done tonight. Not kissing Parvati on the dance floor, not Katie sabotaging the night more than once, not the walk I took with Fleur and _certainly _not the time I spent with you." He took a deep breath. "I didn't realize it when I asked you to the ball as friends, Hermione, but..."

Again, Hermione wouldn't let him hesitate. "Yes?" she encouraged, hanging on his every word despite herself.

"I really don't _want_ to be friends, Hermione. Not anymore," he said, truthfully. Hermione was initially floored that Harry didn't want her friendship, but then she realized what he was trying to say. "I want to take you to Hogsmeade, and sit in Madame Puttifoots, or the Three Broomsticks, or _wherever _you want to go! I want to hold hands and buy chocolates and books, and when Rita Skeeter writes another article telling the world who I'm dating," he said, pausing to look Hermione in the eyes, "I want to be able to really say it's you."

Hermione wasn't the type to over-react. She preferred to think things through logically before flying off the handle. She was also terrible when it came to dealing with her emotions. "_Bullshit_, Harry!" she shrieked, finally losing control. "Don't play head games with me. You think I didn't hear you tell Ron about _looking girls in the eyes_? I'm not going to fall for it," she promised, walking away from him. "Not this time, and not _any other time_! You aren't worth the trouble!"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. When she reached the doorway, he yelled, "Hermione, wait!"

"No! It is after curfew," she announced, "and I am _going to bed_!" He moved to join her and she snapped, "Don't you _dare _follow me!"

Hermione opened the classroom door and, without looking back, she slammed it shut, rattling its frame. Harry couldn't move, stunned by Hermione's vehement declaration that he wasn't worthy of her affections. He stood stock still, seemingly drained of all strength and unwilling to leave without his best friend.

For her part, Hermione nearly ran sobbing down the halls, and she shouted the password, "_Abstinence_," at the disgruntled Fat Lady when she returned to the common room. McGonagall was nowhere to be found, and the few students brave enough to still be mingling were _not _brave enough to stop Hermione Granger's furious stride. She stomped up the stairs to the dormitories, and ignored Lavender's whispered questions, crawling in bed without even removing her dress first.

Harry didn't leave the classroom for a long time. The best night of his life was over, and he couldn't help wishing he could take it all back. His two best friends probably hated him, not to mention Katie and Parvati, who would be out to kill him for the forseeable future. While the rest of the school might actually ease up on him, he'd be more lonely and outcast than ever, and everyone was leaving the following day.

Checking a discarded clock in the corner, he realized that nearly an hour had past since he entered the room, and he finally decided to trek his way back to Gryffindor and get some rest. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he nearly ran over a petite blonde stationed strangely close to the classroom door.

"I'm sorry!" he assured her, moving to help her up from the ground. She blew his concerns off with a smile, focusing somewhere above his head rather on his face. "Uh, I'm not sure we've met before," he trailed off.

"We haven't," she told him. "Did you know that there's mistletoe above your head?" He looked up and, sure enough, she had been right. "I'm Luna," she greeted.

She pressed her lips against his before he could say anything, and then skipped away just as swiftly. Bewildered, and not entirely sure he wasn't sleep-deprived, he ruefully dragged himself toward the common room. The Fat Lady, still stinging from Hermione's comments, cursed at Harry when he gave the wrong password. Once he finally got past the portrait, who was nearly as intoxicated as Draco had been earlier, he wearily sat on the couch, rubbing his temples.

"Party's over," he declared, though he was alone. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Nine-<em>


	10. Chapter Ten

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Ten**

In the week after the big occasion, Harry felt the growing distance between himself and his best friends. He took advantage of the extra hours of privacy to prepare for the next task of the Triwizard Tournament (though he had yet to solve the riddle of the golden egg) and, as a happy result, he ended up congregating with the few upperclassmen he knew. He quite determinedly turned a blind eye to the fact he was hanging out with new people because his true friends wouldn't talk to him. Of course, it was impossible to forget the night he had lost control and destroyed half the Room of Requirement in his angst, or yesterday, when he outright begged Hermione to talk to him and had received a solid kick to the shin as a painful reminder she had not forgiven him for the night of the Yule Ball.

Now, an hour before Gryffindor's first class of the semester, he eyed himself in the only free mirror in Gryffindor tower, trying to ignore the fact that most of his fourth year roommates were ignoring him. His quite swollen shin throbbed painfully, spurred on by his thoughts of his female best friend. Seamus and Dean had taken Ron's side and the three could usually be found discussing girls, sports, and Harry and Hermione in quiet tones normally reserved for Snape's study hall sessions.

In fact, nearly everyone in the school had taken to gossipping about Harry in the days following the Yule Ball fiasco. Now that school was back in session, Ron's free time would be occupied by nightly detentions (not that he was spending time with Harry anyway) and Harry was lucky if he could even catch Hermione's glance from afar. The smoldering look in her eyes had dissuaded Harry from even bothering her, so he didn't often venture into the common room these days.

He didn't know whether to be hurt that his friend had completely decided to disregard his advances or frustrated that he couldn't even talk to her anymore. Harry figured Hermione would come around and allow him to make amends for his behavior, but it was taking much longer than he had anticipated. He would have gladly taken everything back if only to get her to scold him for... _something_! He had been an angel ever since then, partly in an effort to get Hermione to recognize his changed ways, and partly because he really wasn't up to any rule-breaking antics without his friends.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, lethargically crossing the bathroom. He was the latest riser of the five boys, and the long night with McGonagall was showing on his face. Harry stifled a snicker at the bits of Elderrag's All-Purpose Eliminator that was plastered to Ron's matted red hair. The Deputy Headmistress had been particularly strict on him, starting his first detention before the semester even began. Ron made his way over to Harry, and then he seemed to realize who it was he had been talking to. His mouth automatically formed a frown, and Harry said nothing as his friend gave him the cold shoulder once more, passing him soundlessly. The awkward moment passed when Dean and Seamus welcomed Ron's appearance, and Ron crawled into the showers while striking up a conversation about Quidditch. Sighing, Harry shuffled out of the bathroom, straightening his tie with his fingers as he went.

"He'll come around," Neville said encouragingly, standing just inside the bathroom.

"He always does," Harry said, smiling slightly. He didn't think Ron would hold it against him forever, but he knew his friend had a sore spot when it came to Hermione, and that it was going to be a while before he was offered any chance at reconciliation. "Thanks, Nev. You wanna walk down to breakfast?"

"Nah," he said, a shy grin on his face. "I told Ginny I'd wait for her to get up and we'd go together." Harry briefly paused, doing a virtual double take at the news that Ron's little sister and Neville Longbottom were still an item. He had the feeling that Ron was unaware of his sister's relationship, and a darker part of him realized that Ginny's romantic endeavors would play into his favor. With Ron's anger sure to be divided between Hermione and Neville, as well as his sister, perhaps Ron would ease up on Harry a bit earlier; after all, Harry paused, noticing that Neville had just mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks turning a bit pink in the process.

"What's that, Nev?" He eyed his suddenly wary friend with bemusement. Speak up."

"I said: Are you okay with me dating her?"

Harry frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be?" He laughed, slapping Neville on the back good-naturedly. "Besides, Ron's the one you'll have to worry about." Neville shrugged, a soft smile still gracing his boyish features. "Fred and George too." His friend started to look a bit sick, as if he had just eaten a bad Every-Flavor Bean. "Not to mention Ginny's three other older brothers!" Smirking, Harry walked away from Neville. Adding one last thing as he walked down the stairs, Harry yelled, "But... I'm sure Ron will come around!"

As he reached the last step, he heard Ron's distant voice say, "Come around to _what_?"

Harry's laughter died down once he reached the common room; his feet led him in a long arc around the couch that Hermione was sitting on, and after a quick glance showed that she was steadfastly ignoring him, he sighed and walked out of the portrait hole. He completely missed the contemplative look that Hermione focused on the back of his head.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter." Harry was surprised when he nearly ran into his Head of House just outside of the portrait hole, but he gave her a big smile nonetheless.

"Good morning, Professor," he greeted. "What are you doing here so early?"

She gave him a contemplative look of her own. "I've come to escort Mr. Weasley to a short but hopefully _enlightening _meeting with his parents before the days classes begin." Harry nearly choked at the slight smirk that pulled at the edge of his Professor's mouth. "If I was you, I would steer clear of Mr. Weasley for the rest of the day. If you'll excuse me..."

Harry tried not to be glad that Ron was in a world of trouble, but he couldn't resist a brief laugh at his friends expense; of course, his laugh fell flat when he realized that he had no one to share it with. Feeling rather worn out, he watched his feet slide over stone as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He hoped he could go ahead and eat before his friends showed up and the inevitable knot formed in his stomach.

However, by the time he reached the hall, he realized it would be impossible not to feel nauseated. Sitting in the spot that he normally occupied during breakfast was a face that was becoming all-too-familiar, as it was the brightest, most attractive one in the school at present.

"Good morning, Harry," Fleur said, standing to greet him. Harry's hair was quite literally standing on end, but he did his best to smile politely and return her greeting. He winced as his reply came out two octaves too high, but Fleur didn't make a comment. "I've been looking for you since the Ball, but it's as if you've been invisible this week!"

Harry snickered to match her musical laugh; he had passed her more than once under his Invisibility Cloak as he tried to avoid other, far more annoying students. He had never considered that Fleur might have been looking for him. "Have you been avoiding me?" she questioned, her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Shaking his head, he took a seat. Noticing that she was still standing beside him with a confused look clouding her otherwise beautiful features, he offered her the seat she had just been occupying. "I won't bite," he said, smiling.

Her nose wrinkled. "What about that friend of yours?" At Harry's blank look, she added, "the one who screamed at me?" Her tone made it obvious she did not appreciate Ron's frantic invitation. "Will _he_ bite?"

"You mean Ron," he said, trying not to laugh. "Maybe if your hand's on the last kipper," he joked, "but he hasn't been talking to me the last few days, so I doubt he sits close enough to join in. You rather embarrassed him the other day," Harry said, laughing, "so I'd imagine he's too frightened to say anything. Besides," he grinned, a bit of slyness returning to his voice now that he wasn't trembling at her presence, "I told you last time that ours was the most interesting conversation I've ever had, so any of my friends can wait."

Fleur considered him as he went about adding food to his empty plate. "Well, I'm not one for, how do you say - _beating around the bush_? I was wondering if your evening is free tomorrow." Harry's eyes bulged, though he immediately cast them sideways to avoid showing Fleur any fear. He sensed no nervousness from her, and he didn't know if that was better or worse - while he had plenty of experience with girls who were in awe of him because of his past, it was rare that a female would display no outward signs of anxiety in his presence. He wasn't sure if he entirely enjoyed the experience.

Harry had a feeling he would squeak if he rushed to answer her, so he took a long sip of his pumpkin juice before replying. "Sure," he said, swallowing shakily. "What did you have in mind?"

She smiled demurely. Harry felt Fleur must have already known he would consent to another night with her, same as any boy his age. He couldn't exactly fault her for that, as even though he knew she had a high opinion of herself, it was obviously for good reason, and she didn't seem to have an inflated ego once he got to know her a bit. With her long, platinum hair and distinctly French looks, she was the envy of every female at Hogwarts. That's why, once she started talking, he couldn't quite believe what she was saying. "I thought we could have a second date of sorts - this time in the daylight. My parents are coming to England to witness the next task in a few weeks, but my father is going to be here tomorrow to sign a contract for it. If you don't mind, I'd like you to join us for dinner!"

Fleur spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a fourteen year old boy to accompany France's most supernatural beauty to dinner with her father in attendance. Harry instinctively knew that he should not hesitate, but his body rebelled at first, drawing a concerned glance from Fleur. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no!" Harry rushed to assure her. "Nothing's wrong! It's just-"

For the first time since the night the Goblet of Fire had been extinguished, Fleur frowned at Harry. "If you do not want to go, Harry, say so. I did not mean to push you-"

"Fleur," he said, grabbing the girl's attention by holding both of her hands in his own. "I promise you I'm honored you asked, and I would love to meet your father. If he's half as friendly as you are, I'm sure we'll get along just fine." The frown fell away to reveal a pleased expression, which Harry found accented her beauty much better. "I was just surprised that you asked, is all. No one's ever invited me to meet their parents... well, except for Ron, but I'm not sure that counts," he said, chuckling slightly.

She smiled, but otherwise ignored the comment about Ron. It was obvious that she wasn't a fan of the redhead, and Harry had to admit he wasn't feeling particularly friendly toward his bestie either. "Can I ask you a question, Fleur?"

"Of course," she said. The girl crinkled her nose at the predominantly English cuisine in front of her, but chose a few rashers of bacon and some buttered toast, perhaps to complement her light figure. Harry couldn't stop himself from momentarily watching her seductively crunch into the bacon, but he was able to control his desire long enough to ask his question.

"Your father... ah, how much does he know about me exactly?"

"What do you mean? Most of the world knows you already, Harry. I'm certain my father is no different."

"Well," he said, trying not to blush. "I don't know if you've noticed, but the English press aren't my biggest supporters at the moment." She nodded, and he continued, a calculating gleam in his eyes. "If your father buys into anything they say, I don't think he'll want me anywhere _near _his daughter."

For the second time in as many minutes, Fleur frowned. "I thought you were part of the house of courage, Harry." The boy in question recoiled as if struck, but at least had the wherewithal to consider her statement. "If you're too afraid to meet my father, then I don't think I want you anywhere near me either." Fleur turned her nose up at the end of her brief tirade, but Harry could sense that she wasn't really angry.

"You're right," he said, running a hand through his raven hair with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Let me start over. Okay?" A hint of a smile played at the edge of her pink lips, so he took that as a good sign to continue. "Fleur, I would love to have dinner with you and your father tomorrow evening. Where do I go, what time am I supposed to be there, and... ah, how should I dress?"

"Meet me in the Entrance Hall at seven. Your Hogwarts robes should be fine for the occasion; it's not like you're meeting the French president..." she chuckled, and Harry followed suit. "Father is just his secretary after all - he's much less formal," she informed him. Harry's laughter died, replaced by a strangled sound that Fleur didn't hear or chose to ignore. "I have to get made up before class, so I'll see you later." Distantly, he registered that Fleur was leaving, but Harry was still blankly staring ahead, so she leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek that caught his attention quite nicely. "Bye, Harry," she said, walking away. His green eyes followed her as she left the Great Hall, each hip swaying ever so gently. Once she was gone, he took a glance around the room to see that more than a few boys had been watching Fleur and were now watching him with undisguised envy.

"I guess if all the girls envy her, all of the boys envy me," he said under his breath, feeling a bit of pressure and trying not to look up and start casting curses. He didn't know whether Fleur could be considered his girlfriend yet, but he certainly didn't appreciate others staring at the girl he was going on a date with tomorrow.

Those thoughts were erased when he saw Hermione was now sitting at the other end of the table. She looked up, and he tried very hard not to look away. However, she was quick to turn her head toward her unfinished breakfast, which curiously remained untouched as the seconds passed. Apparently, she had made her way into the room some time ago, and he had a sinking feeling that Hermione had seen and heard Harry and Fleur's entire conversation, as well as the kiss on the cheek at the end. In the end, he couldn't decide whether he should feel triumphant that Fleur wanted a second date or guilty that he had been even more of a jerk to his best friend.

"Why the long face?" Ginny said, flopping onto the seat next to him. Neville was with her, looking suspiciously pleased; Harry wondered why Neville looked like he'd just inherited Greenhouse #4. Rather than answer her, Harry smirked at the younger girl.

"Why is _he _smiling so big?"

Neville's smile fell, replaced by an embarrassed expression. "I'd rather not comment..." he said, leaving no doubt what he and Ginny had just been up to. Ginny chose to lightly change the subject.

"_So_... are you ready for classes to start?"

Harry shrugged, not really feeling like talking. "Better working my tail off at Hogwarts than for the Dursleys, I guess. How about you guys?"

"I can't wait for the first Charms class!" Ginny enthused, glancing briefly at Neville. "That's what I've got first, and Flitwick doesn't usually spend that much time on reviewing, so hopefully we'll be doing _something _important-"

Harry became aware of someone behind him, and instantly turned to face Draco, who had crossed the distance between tables and looked ready to insult and possibly assault him. The Boy-Who-Lived couldn't resist a wolfish grin at Malfoy's expense, recalling the state he had left him in after the Yule Ball.

"Now, now, Ginevra," he started, his snide voice carrying across the hall. He stopped about a foot from Harry, sneering at each of them in turn. "We _all_ know you could never actually do _something important_." His eyes rested on Neville a moment longer, as he prepared to rip the normally quiet boy a new one. "After all, the only person to ask you to the Ball is a Squib!"

"Pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" Harry had opened his mouth to defend his friends, but Neville beat him to the punch. "As if I care what you think anyway. Ginny's opinion is _the only one_ that matters." He turned back around, ignoring the Slytherin ponce in favor of resuming his breakfast. Ginny glanced at her boyfriend with a smile, apparently enjoying the new Neville.

"Oh, isn't that _sweet_?" Pansy Parkinson said, stepping in to defend Draco in her snobbish way. "Longbottom's finally getting some courage-"

"Yet, _you're_ still not cunning enough to realize your own faults," Ginny simpered, waving one hand as if to clear her nose of a putrid odor. "Please take that awful perfume you're wearing and _go sit down_." She nodded at Draco, whose annoyance was prevalent, as it was burning up his face. "Take the dickless twit with you."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, a sentiment which was returned by most of the Gryffindor table. Breakfast was close to being over now, and nearly everyone in Hogwarts had heard Ginny's last comment. Unfortunately, that also meant that Snape's quick strides across the Great Hall led him to the Gryffindor table. "I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley," he hissed, standing far too close to Harry for his comfort. "I didn't quite catch that last remark." It was exceedingly obvious to Harry that Snape had heard every word.

Ginny's face showed the faintest hint of a smile. "It doesn't bear repeating, sir. I was just directing Mal... I mean, _Draco_, and Pansy, to take a seat at their own table. There's not much time left for us to eat breakfast, sir."

Harry outwardly kept his cool, but he really wanted to laugh his arse off; he had never figured Ginny to be the type to weasel out of trouble, but he supposed she had picked up a few things from Fred and George - namely, never being held accountable for her own actions. "Ms. Weasley," he began, before trailing off suddenly. He glanced sideways at the Headmaster, who was watching the brewing argument with a half-smile on his face. "Please refrain from cursing at your fellow students. 5 points from Gryffindor." She opened her mouth to complain, her ears already flaming nearly as red as her hair, but Snape resumed speaking before she could. "Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Parkinson, 5 points _each_ from Slytherin."

"WHAT?" Harry and Draco said, though the voice of the former was easily drowned out by the latter. The blonde boy continued speaking, his teeth clenched in rage. "_We _didn't even do anything!"

"Return to your seats _at once, _or it will be double the points for both of you!" Snape said, his booming voice quelling whatever argument Draco was concocting before it even began. As they left the scene, angrily stomping back to the Slytherin table, Harry could have sworn he heard the Professor say under his breath, "Now maybe that old wind bag will ease up..."

Harry blinked, realizing that Snape had been talking about Dumbledore, but he said nothing to his friends; he wasn't sure he wanted to know why Snape had suddenly become impartial toward his Slytherins. Nevertheless, he did at least appreciate the effort. Ginny, for her part, couldn't believe Draco had been made an example of.

"Neville," she started, and the boy faced her with a timid smile. "Did Snape just-"

"Yes," he said, not really believing it himself. "I think he did."

"Oh my God," she muttered, strangely depressed by the news. "Hell's freezing over..."

Harry shook his head, rising from the table. "I'm off," he announced, swiftly gathering his belongings and taking one last bite of his meal. "See you in class, Nev," he said, slapping him on the back and smiling at his friend's new redheaded beau. Ginny growled something unintelligible, but she didn't raise her head from where it rested on Neville's shoulder.

Harry smiled, for once thankful he was going to class early. Once Ron made it to breakfast and saw Neville and Ginny, they would doubtlessly be involved in an inevitable argument and someone was bound to lose their house more points. Fortunately, the Gryffindors were scheduled to have McGonagall first, which was a damn sight better than Potions first, and though he didn't think they would do much besides rehash the last semester's key points, at least he could get a seat as far away from Ron as possible. He was mentally preparing himself for a day of boredom when he heard a poisonous female voice from behind him. He groaned aloud and stopped walking, leaning against the closest wall and facing Pansy and Draco, who had followed him out of the Great Hall.

"Again?" he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. "So soon!"

"Potter!" Malfoy seethed, his footsteps abnormally loud in the empty corridor. "If you think for one minute," he spat, anger painted bright red across his sharp face, "I'm going to let you get away with what you did to me, I-"

Harry screwed up his face in confusion, though he obviously knew what Draco was referring to. "What did _I _do to _you_? I saw you leave our party - one you weren't invited to, by the way - drunk waddling upstairs toward the trophy room, but you were too belligerent to hear us _begging_ you not to do anything foolish. Not that you've ever listened to us _before_..."

"That's tripe and you know it!" Draco screeched. Belatedly, he lowered his voice, looking around warily. They weren't exactly alone in the halls, though Harry doubted anyone else could hear their whispered conversation. "I _certainly _didn't wreck the trophy room, and I _know _you are the one who hit Milly with that hex!" While Malfoy was one hundred percent accurate, Harry knew that Draco would never be able to prove his accusations, as he'd implicate himself in the process. A mischievous smile appeared, though Harry was quick to hide it.

"Without your little friends to help you," Malfoy added, leaning toward Harry, whose hand was still on his wand, "who is going to come to your defense? I'd watch my back if I were you." Harry laughed his threat off easily enough, and Malfoy stepped away, his fists clenched in rage.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy. I had a fun time after the Yule Ball but I was back in bed by curfew. Take it up with Dumbledore or McGonagall if you want to get yourself in trouble."

Realizing that he'd be putting one foot in his own grave by blaming Harry did nothing to alleviate the fury Draco was feeling. "This is not the end of this! You better watch your back!"

Harry shook his head, trying not to laugh at the pitiful Slytherin. "You just said that." He had expected Malfoy to look for revenge on him without any evidence - in fact, if their roles were reversed, Harry would have most likely blamed Draco for the situation. He kept an eye on Draco as he walked away, his wand in his hand just in case, but neither of the angry Slytherins made any attempt to attack him.

Students were passing him now, and he recognized a few girls from the year ahead of him before another student slammed into him, knocking him over. Crying in outrage, she flailed her arms as she fell, crashing down on top of Harry and knocking the wind out of him. "Oof," she muttered, scrambling off of the ground. She reached down to help him up out of concern, before she realized who it was; Harry blanched as he looked into the eyes of Katie Bell. "Don't block the hall, dummy!"

"Don't run in the hallways then!" he said, his attitude flaring dangerously. "I was just standing here!"

"Whatever! I don't have time for this," she said, grabbing her things, which had fallen out of her bag and were strung about the corridor. People slid past her, uncaringly stepping over her things, and Harry reached down to help her. She tried to shove him away from her, and ended up awkwardly pushing his arm down and into the path of rather pushy girl from Hufflepuff, who retaliated by kicking Katie's text book further down the hall. "Damnit! What was that for!"

"Don't block the hall!"

Katie growled, looking ready to curse the girl, and Harry just barely refrained from laughing, taking pity on his one time friend. "Look, Katie-"

"Just save it for someone who cares, Potter," she said, waving a hand flippantly and using her wand to summon her scattered items. With a few deft flicks that drew Harry's attention, everything was zipped up tight in her bag.

"Nice magic," he muttered off-handedly. Katie rose to her feet, still glaring at Harry, who decided this was his best opportunity to apologize. "Wait! I know you don't care," he tried again, smoothing down his robes, which were slightly dusty after his fall. "I don't expect you to even forgive me, but... I want to say I'm sorry anyways." Katie narrowed her eyes. "You deserve one, at least." He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. "I shouldn't have lead you on the other night. I had plenty of opportunities to tell you I wasn't interested in being anything more than friends, but I was too busy enjoying myself to care, and-"

"Harry," Katie said, stopping him with finger to his lips. "You don't have to say your sorry. Don't get me wrong - I appreciate it, 'cause you were a dick the other night - but I realized you're just not my type after all." She shrugged. "You're a handsome guy, but you get into _way _too much trouble for me." Harry privately thought that she could get into plenty of trouble on her own, but she was forgiving him, so he decided not to say anything. "Plus, I kind of kissed Ron the other night, so I don't feel right judging you for doing the same thing."

Harry smiled weakly. "I promise you I'd never kiss Ron," he joked, "but I understand what you're saying. You think we can be friends?"

She punched him in the chest, almost knocking the wind out of him again. "Eh," she said, shrugging, a cute smile on her face. "I'll think about it." Harry snickered, and Katie smiled a little bigger. "I'll be late if I don't hurry," she trailed off. "Not that Binns would notice, but still."

"Yeah, me too. McGonagall will have my hide."

"Oh, she already has mine," she laughed, "and Ron's for that matter. See ya later."

Harry didn't quite understand what she meant by that, but he assumed they must have been in trouble as a result of Hermione's actions - stunning them in the hallway. Katie's revelation that Ron and her had locked lips came as a surprise, but Harry felt no pain, and was actually pleased by the notion. A dark part of him wanted to encourage Ron and Katie's relationship, as that would make Hermione available, but he was guilty over his thoughts, and quashed them with little difficulty.

Besides, he had a date with Fleur the next evening. What _else _was there to worry about?

* * *

><p>Ron didn't say much as his Head of House briskly led him toward her office. He decided he wouldn't fret too much over missing the majority of breakfast; after all, his stomach was turning itself in knots the closer he got to McGonagall's office, and he wasn't sure he could hold anything down at this point. He imagined this was the way he'd feel before his first Quidditch match, without the exhilarating feeling of flying to take his breath away. McGonagall refused to look at him, as she was still <em>very<em> angry that he had escaped from her on the night of Yule Ball. He shook himself roughly, trying desperately to summon some courage; his nerves were getting on his nerves.

It wasn't long before he was ushered inside McGonagall's office. He glanced at the much older woman to see her mouth set rigidly, and he quickly looked away, his eyes immediately finding his feet. Unfortunately, that meant that he missed his parents sitting in front of McGonagall's desk when he entered, and his mother's shrill voice nearly caused him a heart attack as a result.

"_Ronald Bilius Weasley_!" she shrieked. Within seconds she had crossed the office and clamped her sharp fingernails down on his right ear, which produced a rather more muted shriek from her son. "I have never been so disappointed in you _in my entire life!_ Not only did you disobey your Head of House, you put yourself in unnecessary danger and you did it to impress... _some floozy_-"

"Now, now, Molly," Arthur said, placing a calming hand on Molly's back. When she turned her angry eyes to him, he instinctively slapped Ron on the back of his vividly red head. Somehow, Ron knew that his father wasn't that angry with him, merely annoyed that he had been pulled out of work to attend a parents-professor meeting in the first place. "We don't even know the girl, so let's not assume-"

"Arthur," she said through her teeth. "If she's foolish enough to get caught kissing our _fool of a boy_, she's a full-fledged _floozy_! At least Ginny went to the ball with a _nice boy_-"

Ron let his parents debate his scandalous date amongst each other, knowing it was better for his mother to direct her anger at his father, who was far less likely to blow up in the middle of McGonagall's office. The young Gryffindor held his temper in check as best he could as his mother lauded his date with scorn and Neville with praise. "Arthur and Molly Weasley!" The Transfiguration mistress barked, silencing the two adults almost effortlessly. "_Thank you._ I called you here for a reason," she trailed off, looking expectantly at Ron's parents.

"Right," Arthur said, facing Ron, who had remained quiet for some time. "What do you have to say for yourself, son?"

Ron cut his eyes at McGonagall, who looked all-too-pleased to see her student castigated by his Mum. This was far worse than any detention she could have given him - even scrubbing cauldrons with Snape. He knew he had to give an accurate account of the night's events, but the only excuse he could think of for his behavior - I just really wanted to celebrate the only ball we'll ever have! - would only land him in even more trouble. Inwardly he cursed Katie, who had inadvertently led to him being caught, and hadn't been visited by _her_ parents at school! He also cursed himself, for getting caught to begin with.

"Well? Are you going to say anything?" Molly had never been a patient person, and the swift tapping of her right foot on the hard floor filled the office. "Or is your tongue still stuck in that _pitiful_ girl's mouth-"

"You know what?" Ron asked, stepping forward defiantly. He'd had enough of his Mum's disdainful attitude toward someone she didn't even know. "Her name is _Katie_, not _pitiful girl,_ and she is _definitely _not _some floozy_. You treat her like she's a... scarlett woman just because she had the _gaul _to kiss me!" Molly looked taken aback, but Ron thought he saw a glimmer of something in his father's eyes, and he felt encouraged to continue. "I was wrong. I should have stayed in my dorm, but I _knew _what trouble I was going to get into, and guess what? _I did it anyway_! Not to disrespect Professor McGonagall," he said, looking at the woman, who seemed affronted but not quite angry at his behavior, "but I wasn't about to give away one of the... most _important _nights of my life just to SIT THERE!"

There was silence in McGonagall's office. Ron became imminently aware of the curious stare of his father, the calculating, slightly mischeivous glance of McGonagall, and lastly, the flabbergasted expression pasted on his mother's face. He thought about what he had just said. "Who _the bloody hell _is _Katie_?!" Molly said, her anger evident in her voice. McGonagall didn't even scold her for language.

Ron bit his lip. It wasn't until it started to bleed slightly that he realized he should have done that to begin with.

* * *

><p>Harry was sitting at his desk when Hermione walked into the Transfiguration classroom. He locked eyes on her, but as she moved to the front of the class and sat down, his attention was drawn to the girl taking a seat behind her. The dark-skinned girl refused to do anything but scowl at him these days, and though he felt he'd earned quite a few angry glares for his bad deeds, accomplishing his school-related goals was made infinitely harder with the heat of her stare on his back. More than once he had heard her furiously whispered conversations with Lavender, and though it was normal for them to gossip about other students, he had not felt their harsh words as keenly as he had been the last few days. He knew he ought to apologize to Parvati, but her bullying behavior meant a sufficient explanation of his actions would not be forthcoming. He always refused to bow down to bad guys, after all. Fortunately, she would have to grow eyes in the back of her head to see him from the front of the class, and he breathed a sigh of relief he had not been paired with her for the day.<p>

Quite the contrary, he ended up with a lovely Hufflepuff girl that he had rarely had any interactions with in his time at Hogwarts. Susan Bones, he remembered, was the neice of the current Head of the DMLE, which apparently entitled her to being the Hogwarts equivalent of a hall monitor. If Hermione was as goody-two shoes, then Susan obviously had three feet. "How are you today, Susan?" he asked, just as McGonagall set them to task turning sterling silver spoons into mice. Harry had long ago progressed past this point, but as expected, the class was spending the first week back reviewing things from the previous semester.

"Good," she murmured distractedly. She was concentrating on her Transfiguration, and Harry smiled when, after taking a few moments to compose herself, she pulled off the magic, though it wasn't quite perfect. A field mouse nibbled eagerly on its tail, which was distinctly metallic. "Have mercy," she muttered, before she caught Harry looking at her. Slightly pink in the cheeks, she frowned and said, "Well, go on then. Let's see how you do."

Harry was feeling playful, so he faced her with a roguish smile. He decided to go for giggles instead of potentially putting the girl down by out-doing her too easily. Since she was watching, he acted like he was concentrating really hard, waiting more than a minute before she squealed, "Come on!" Smirking, he waved his wand, and purposely created the mouse with an oval head, though it still had hair and the corresponding facial features. Harry glanced at the girl to see that she was breaking out in a smile despite her normal 'holier than thou' attitude, so he directed his mouse to run over to Susan's. It playfully wrestled her mouse to the ground and began hugging it around the waist.

"What is he doing?" she started, before laughing outright. "Are they _spooning each other_?" Her guffaws were so loud that the McGonagall swept in with a commanding air.

"What is going on here?" she watched the two students try to stifle their laughter before turning her narrowed eyes on the two mice. Noting their disposition to romance, she sharply said, "If you've had enough horseplay for one day, perhaps you can complete the task _properly_." Susan had the good grace to frown, but Harry smiled openly, and reverted the spell with a flourish. The mouse with the metallic tail was left trying to push a spoon off of its chest, which it did with little effort, seeming confused by the trials set before him. Susan followed his lead, and soon there were two spoons sitting on the desk.

Once McGonagall had walked away, Susan whispered, "I really needed that, Harry, but let's try not to get in trouble. Okay?" As she said it, she placed a hand on his arm, which she retracted awkwardly a moment later, blushing bright fuschia. Knowing that saying something about her embarrassing moment would only make it so that she never approached him again, he smiled carefully.

"Sure, sure," he said easily. "I know how much you value hard work and staying out of trouble, and even though those aren't exactly my strong suits," he joked, "I wouldn't purposely cause someone misfortune-"

"Not even Malfoy?" she said, smiling sweetly. Harry paused, momentarily caught off-guard by her quick-witted reply.

"Well," Harry admitted, "you didn't let me finish! I wouldn't purposely cause someone misfortune _unless they deserved every bit of it._"

She laughed, her rosy cheeks shining in the warm light cascading from the nearest window. Harry had never recalled the girl as beautiful, but now that she was smiling at something he did, he had no doubts concerning Susan's good looks. It wasn't lost on him that she was sitting a little closer to him now, and had relaxed quite a bit.

"I heard that he fell down a flight of stairs on the night of the Yule Ball. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" She looked at him closely, perhaps discern any signs of deceit, but Harry had been lying to the Dursleys since before he could spell his name. Snickering, he flat denied any responsibility.

"Though I'd love to be witness to Malfoy falling flat on his face, I can't say I had the... ah, _priviledge _to see him pushed down the stairs. His father, however..." he trailed off, glancing at McGonagall. Fortunately, she was occupied by scolding Neville for holding his wand improperly.

"You know something," she stated, and Harry did nothing to dissuade her. "Tell me, Potter."

"Let's just say a particular house elf owed me a favor, and he wasn't exactly enthralled with his previous _employer_. The Headmaster's office may have been involved, as well as a rather sweaty gym sock and-"

McGonagall started speaking, saving Harry from further conversation. "That's enough revision for today," she said, swirling her wand in a circle above her head. The students cheered, eager to ease their boredom, if only through more difficult classwork. "Next, we're going to be-"

Harry tuned her out and continued to speak quietly with Susan, who actually had quite a bit in common with him. By the end of the class, she promised him that she'd introduce him to a few more Hufflepuff students, and, at his insistence, to put in a good word with her Aunt Amelia if Harry was ever caught doing magic outside of school.

"I don't think there's much she can do for you if you murder your Aunt and Uncle, but maybe she could get you out of trouble if the spell was in self-defense. You know, like a shield charm or a Jelly-Legs jinx. Still, I wouldn't encourage you to practice _Protego _outside of school."

He laughed, nudging her slightly with his shoulder. He really liked the girl, though he couldn't see them getting any closer than friends. She was a bit haughty, and more than a little bossy, but her moral compass stayed North and she knew how to crack a decent joke as well. As far as the Hufflepuffs went, she was damn powerful too. "Nah," he said, chuckling, "no sense in blocking spells when you're surrounded by daft Muggles." She momentarily frowned, and he caught himself. "Not that all Muggles are daft, just my family."

She winked. "I know a few of those myself," she admitted. "Anyway, Harry, I'll see you later on. Potions tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be in the last seat to the left, farthest from Snape's desk. You're welcome to join me."

"I thought you paired with Hermione in Potions? Fair warning: she's a much better _Potioneer _than I am, so you'd probably be better off."

Harry pulled at his tie, suddenly uncomfortable. The students were piling into the hall, and he was stuck in a cluster of students with Susan only a few inches from his shoulder. He placed one arm protectively around her to steer her clear of danger, and she thanked him once they reached fresh air, just out of sight of the majority of students. "I appreciate the warning, but Hermione's not..." he sighed. "She's not really talking to me right now, and neither is Ron."

Susan frowned. "Why not? I thought you three were thick as thieves..."

"I reckon we still are," Harry supposed, "but they're both mad at me right now." At her request, he explained why, without going into too much detail. "I... kind of blew it during the Yule Ball. You saw me and Katie, right?"

"Who didn't?" she asked, acidically. "If you weren't nice to me just now, I'd probably kick you in the shin for what you did to Parvati."

"No need," he laughed, "Hermione already took care of that for you. It still stings, actually..."

"Well, I don't have much time, but if I give you some advice, will you take it?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Fix things with your friends," she said, nodding at Hannah Abbott, who was making her way toward them with a pleasant smile on her face. "You'll never be the same without them," she added, before wishing him a great day and walking away, leaving him all but alone in the hall.

Shrugging, he said, "I'll give it a shot tonight." As he noted Hermione storm from the classroom, her schoolbooks splayed across her chest as she struggled to keep them together, he frowned heavily. "Or... maybe it _would_ be better to wait 'til tomorrow."

_-end of Chapter Ten-_


	11. Chapter Eleven

**We'll Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Eleven**

Harry fiddled with his tie as he nervously awaited the arrival of his date. He had chosen to wear his best set of Hogwarts robes, and rather than a burgundy tie, he wore gold, thinking that the color would accentuate his eyes a bit better. Of course, he knew next to nothing about improving his appearance, but he had at least put forth some considerable effort, praying that the evening went well.

Dinner had finished a bit early, and most of the students had scampered off, leaving Harry all but alone at the Gryffindor table. Romilda Vane had made a valiant attempt at coming to sit beside him, but fortunately for Harry, Ginny and Neville acted as a wall between Harry and the rest of his House, and the third year girl stomped off to her usual seat, sending vengeful looks their way.

According to his digital watch, it was five after seven, and each passing minute only served to intensify the nauseating feeling bubbling in his stomach. He had half a mind to raid Snape's stores in search of a Draught of Confidence to guzzle, but after rumors of strange noises coming from the one closest to the Potion's classroom, Harry wasn't sure he wouldn't be consumed by something himself. Apparently, Michael Corner swore up and down he'd heard a banshee screaming from behind the door on the night of the Yule Ball.

"You excited?" Ginny asked, looking pointedly at Harry. She reached over Neville to procure some dessert, a nice apple cobbler, and Harry stifled a laugh, reminded of the time Dudley had eaten a hot one out of the Dursley's window sill. Harry had been blamed, of course, but even Petunia couldn't deny her son's frantic screams as he begged for milk. "Earth to Harry," Ginny said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"I don't think excited is the word for it," he admitted, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. In his patented self-deprecating fashion, Harry said, "It's more like I'm waiting for her to realize she's going on a date with a kid who, six-seven days ago, had never..." he cleared his throat, deciding not to finish his statement, though Ginny nodded knowingly. "I'm also kind of hoping her father won't rip my eyes out the first time I look at her wrong."

"It's bound to happen at least once," Ginny said, frowning thoughtfully. "As bad as I hate to say this," she said, grimacing, "Fleur is too good looking for her Dad not to have high expectations for any suitors she may have. If I was you, I'd make a concerted effort not to do something foolish when he's around. He's bound to be less forgiving than Phlegm at any rate."

Neville chuckled at her comment, but Harry frowned. "Don't call her that," he said reflexively. Ginny mouthed the words back at him with an attitude, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"Now you sound like Hermione," she said, acting like she was disgusted by the thought. The two Gryffindor girls were on good terms, but as Hermione had distanced herself from Harry and Ron, unfortunately, she had also stopped talking to Ginny. While he was sure they would eventually reconcile, he was more worried about his own relationship with Hermione. "I'm sorry I put her down," Ginny said, referring to Fleur, "but you're going to have to get used to it. Veela are some of the most revered and reviled creatures in the wizarding world, and being a quarter Veela won't make a bit of difference." She sighed, noticing that Harry looked ready to lambast her for telling the truth. "She doesn't deserve it, but that's something you have to be prepared for if you're going to date her. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say the only reason she's even interested is because she thinks you'll always stick up for her. Your 'saving people thing' is... well, very beneficial to you right now."

Harry didn't want to, but he considered Ginny's words as he nervously fiddled with his tie. "And don't look so nervous! She'll know right away that you're worried if you keep _playing with that damned tie!_" The redhead snatched it out of his hands, and Harry had the good grace to look chastised. "Just... try to relax, be yourself, and hey - maybe you'll get laid out of the deal!"

Neville burst out laughing, and Harry couldn't contain his blush; Ginny had nearly screamed her last words, and had certainly succeeded in removing the nervous expression on his face. Of course, it was immediately replaced by fear and embarrassment, but she figured it would be best to get all of those emotions out of the way before the date actually began.

"Oh," she said, "before I forget, the incantation to the Contraceptive Charm is _Condomasius-"_

"Hello, Harry," someone said from behind him. As Ginny's comedic act had continued, Harry had forgotten to focus on the front doors and, as a result, he had completely missed Fleur's entrance. He took a deep breath to settle himself before turning around and he made sure to stand up and embrace the visibly surprised girl. Fortunately, she seemed to encourage the contact once she realized he was initiating it, and Harry felt a bit of his trepidation disappear. Fleur greeted his friends in turn, though he was sure she couldn't remember Neville or Ginny's names, and Harry politely asked her if she was ready. "Yes," Fleur agreed, as Harry rose to his feet. "I hope you don't mind something _different_ for dinner. Father and I don't have the stomach for this _greasy_ English food. No offense," she added at Ginny's stung expression, though Harry had a feeling there was more than a slight jab in the statement. "We're just not used to it."

"It's no problem," Harry said, facing Ginny with a stern glance. She turned away, hiding a half-smile that promised some type of verbal torture later. "I guess I'll see you guys tonight," he announced, stepping away from the table and holding out a hand for Fleur. After a moment's hesitation, she smiled and took it, and they strolled from the Great Hall with the eyes of most of Hogwarts on their backs. Noticing that Fleur was regularly shooting him inquisitive looks, possibly to determine whether he was a big bag of nerves, Harry tried to put on a brave face. "Don't wait up!" he told Ginny, absolutely certain that everyone in the Hall could hear him.

Fleur smiled, feeling comfortable enough with him to wrap one arm around his hip as she walked. He returned the favor, placing his left hand somewhere on her thankfully hidden midriff; he wasn't sure he would be able to walk if she'd chosen more revealing clothing. "Let me ask you a question," he said, partly to get the conversation started, but mostly because he was curious. "What are classes like now that you're... y'know, living at Hogwarts? I mean, is it different than Beauxbatons?"

"Well," she said, smiling, "Beauxbatons is between Marseille and Montpellier, not far from the Mediterranean, so the biggest difference so far is the climate." Harry returned her smile but, thanks to his sheltered life before Hogwarts, he knew next to nothing about France. Of course, Fleur's continued presence in his life was a good reason to learn. "It's in a national park, with a lake on one side and a beach on the other - like the one that we went to in that room of yours. It's not quite as majestic as a castle surrounded by a forest full of magical creatures, but it has its own merits. Some students sun bathe at the beach on the weekends, but its still a bit too cold for that this time of year, and... well, not to sound full of myself, but I tend to attract a lot of attention when I go out in a bikini."

Harry could easily imagine his own reaction to Fleur in a bikini, and he assumed he'd be one of the more reserved viewers. Some men, especially any Muggles watching, would lose their minds in the face of such temptation. Harry stifled a chuckle; he hoped he could get a picture with Fleur in order to wave it in Dudley's face the next time he saw him. Perhaps the Dursley's would want to be freaks too

Fleur continued, a slight bit of irritation creeping into her tone. "As for the classes themselves, everyone that came here for the tournament is grouped by year, so there's really only two classes with twenty or so students each. The Professors would usually let us have class outside in the warm sunshine, especially in the Spring, but for now we have to make due with dusty stone slabs in the dungeons." She shivered at the thought, obviously disliking the dreary nature of that part of the castle. "Headmaster Dumbledore has allocated some unused classrooms for us..."

Her melodic voice expressed concerns with her time at Hogwarts interfering in her studies. Apparently, Fleur wanted to work at Gringotts when she graduated, and as a result of being placed in Scotland, she could not complete certain courses she would have been able to in France. Harry found himself particularly quiet as they walked, having been reduced to an active listener and nothing more. He tried to be positive - at least breaking the ice had taught him something about Fleur - but while he could relate to her disdain for the dungeons, he thought he had a healthy fear of Goblins, in part due to Binns' recitation of the dozen or so rebellions in recent history. He certainly wouldn't be applying to spend half of his life there, guarding the innumerable vaults underground.

Somewhere along the way, Fleur began to lead Harry, as he had no idea where he was going, and had not been given a good enough opportunity to ask her for more information as she was still fervently explaining the differences between each school. Her distinct accent also made it difficult for Harry to follow some things she said, as her excitement butchered the occasional English word, and left him often nodding along incomprehensibly. Luckily, the French contingent at Hogwarts had been given quite a bit of room right near the Forbidden forest, and the couple didn't have to travel far; on the other hand, that meant that it wasn't long before Harry was feeling nervous once again.

"-and I don't think it would be a stretch to say that I'd get in with my first application. They only take on graduates that know more than one language, and being involved in this tournament might just tip the scales in my favor, you know? If I win, I could even use the prize to get a flat in London..."

She glanced at Harry, who was frowning, and immediately determined that he had been silent for the last five to ten minutes. Zeroing in on him, she said, "What about you, Harry? What would you do with the winnings?"

Harry was caught off-guard; before the tournament, he had often pondered what he'd do with a lump sum of that size, but once he had been selected, he had been more worried about not dying, and then, not embarrassing himself too badly in the process. Now that she had put him on the spot, he wasn't sure. Unfortunately, he didn't think refusing to discuss it would get him out of the spotlight, so he tried to concoct a halway believable plan that sounded like he had thought it through.

"I guess if I _had_ to do something with it... besides, y'know, leaving it in the bank... I'd probably just give it away." At Fleur's disbelieving expression, he smiled. "I'd make sure it went a good cause... not to brag or anything... but my parents left me plenty when they passed, and I never entered this competition, so I couldn't care less about the prize." Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just trying to survive this thing."

"You really didn't, did you?" Harry frowned, and she rephrased her statement. "You didn't put your name in the Goblet." He nodded, shrugging sadly. "Everyone thinks you did, but... if you're not responsible... then who is?"

"Good question," Harry said, chuckling humorlessly. "I've been trying to figure it out myself. Dumbledore has been calm about everything, but I know he's worried too; I'm pretty sure someone's trying to kill me off without implicating themselves in the process." He spoke in an offhanded manner and, at Fleur's sniff of disapproval, he shrugged. "It's not a situation I ever wanted to be in, but it's not like I can stop it now that it's happened. I don't care about winning, but I'm still going to do my best to prove to everyone that I belong here."

Fleur chose to prolong the silence, perhaps thinking over what he had said. Just when Harry thought things were becoming awkward between the two of them, Fleur shouted something in French. Confused, Harry shot her a concerned glance, but she just smiled, wearing that smug expression that made him feel eleven again, sitting silently under the brim of a hat in the Great Hall.

Harry nearly shouted himself when he realized that the Forbidden forest, which they had just been standing next to, was... stretching? Something distinctly magical was happening, he realized, as trees ten times as tall as him were sucked into the ground and hills were all but removed from the landscape. The grassy clearing they had been squatting in was now a concrete jungle, where a building roughly the size of Gryffindor tower had been precariously placed on the edge of the forest. Harry couldn't contain his surprise, as he briefly took a step backward, a movement that was immediately noticed by the ever-watchful Ms. Delacour.

"Do not fear," she laughed, obviously enjoying the experience of seeing the Gryffindor boy squirm. "This is where we meet with our parents." She opened her mouth to ask him why he had not been here to see his own family, but quite clearly, he had no family to speak of. Feeling suddenly guilty, she toned down her beaming smile. That didn't mean she wasn't going to pick on him a bit. "You can stare down a dragon - not to mention a thousand year old basilisk! - but you're frightened by this?"

Harry shook his head. "Not frightened so much as... worried, I guess? I just hope that your father-"

"Fleur!" a voice cried from within, just as the thick, wooden door opened before them. Harry was surprised once again; he had not been expecting a balding, elderly man to encircle the young woman with his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest. Harry had imagined a stately wizard with all the ruthlessness of Lucius Malfoy (as well as the blonde locks to match) but apparently, Fleur's good looks came only from her mother. "How I've missed you, _mon cherie_," he whispered in Fleur's ear, before glancing briefly at the boy accompanying her. "And who is this?" he asked, staring pointedly at Harry now that he had extricated himself from his grinning daughter.

"Papa, this is _mon copain_," she announced, with a wave of her pale hand, "Harry Potter." He held his hand out to the man, but Mr. Delacour shook his head; already resenting the man, Harry looked down at his feet, and missed the heavy-set man grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a hearty hug.

"Mr. Potter!" he said, exuding friendliness, as well as a confidence that wouldn't have been out of place on a middle-aged politician. Harry mentally reminded himself that Mr. Delacour worked for the French president, and while he could be a pleasant man, it was much more likely that as soon as Fleur stepped out of the room, Harry would be treated like Hippogriff dung. "A pleasure to meet you! My daughter has been _less than forthcoming _concerning the guest she was bringing tonight," he said, giving her a mock-glare, "but perhaps that was to sweeten the suprise. I am, however, quite pleased given that Mr. Davies is not in attendance," he said, drawing laughter from the two teenagers. Harry's spirits rose considerably.

Fleur said something under her breath that Harry did not catch, but Mr. Delacour chuckled. "Sir," Harry said, deciding to aim for a respectful tone, though he itched to put the Ravenclaw boy down all the same. "Roger isn't world-renowned for his self-control," he said, smiling. "I hope you find me a bit more _mentally balanced._"

Harry was referring to the latest Rita Skeeter article questioning his mental faculties leading up to the second task, but he wasn't sure Delacour read the Daily Prophet regularly. The much older man gave him a lingering glance. "That remains to be seen, Mr. Potter. Are you... a fan of Quidditch?" Harry had heard that the French League was very popular, though he didn't know any player or team names; he assumed correctly that Mr. Delacour was an avid fan.

"Barbaric sport, sir," Harry said with a straight face. "Only position out there worth playing is seeker." The much younger man watched his companion waffle, torn between declaring Quidditch the greatest sport ever but realizing that, ultimately, seeker was the only spot that ever seemed to make a difference on the pitch. Harry ignored the man's indecision and added, "Of course, I'm the youngest seeker in a century... so I guess that makes me more barbaric than the rest."

This time Delacour laughed, shaking his head. "You had me going for a minute there, boy," he said with mirth in his eyes. "I heard you're an excellent young prospect, perhaps as good as Krum was at your age. In fact, Fleur said you out flew your dragon in the first task - a feat that I would suggest you never accomplish twice, but it's awe-inspiring all the same. I was unable to attend, you see, because-"

Mr. Delacour continued to talk (mostly about himself) and was oblivious to the silent conversation brewing between Fleur and Harry. Fleur mouthed, "He talks too much!"

Harry, whose attention was divided between both Delacours, smiled. "Sir," Harry said, interrupting a rather long diatribe on Spanish and French relations, "I think Fleur is trying to get your attention." He looked at the long-haired blonde, who swung her head around and faced him with an irritated glare a moment before her father inquisitive glance brought about a friendly smile. Fleur merely waved her hand once, diverting their attention to a house elf that wore an odd beret placed precariously on his tuft of gray hair. Harry was reminded of a much older Dobby, without the tendency to punish himself. It was made plain that the elf had come with the Beauxbatons students from France when he smiled at Fleur and politely said something in French.

"Dinner is served," Fleur said, acting as an interpreter between Harry and the elf. She slipped through an adjacent door with style, her long legs guiding her into the dining room beyond, and the two men joined her momentarily. Fortunately, Mr. Delacour had not noticed the approving glance Harry gave Fleur's rear end on her way out.

"I'm _famished_," Harry said. He had chosen to skip lunch that day on the off chance that he'd be too full to eat dinner; as a result, he had spent the last period of the day and the three hours following it trying desperately not to eat anything, and he was feeling rather sickly now. The table in front of him would soon fix his hunger problem though, so he smiled delightedly at Fleur, who was a bit more reserved in the presence of her father. However, another problem presented itself as he gazed hungrily at the gathered plates; Harry had absolutely no idea what half of the dishes were made of, much less what they were called.

"I can suggest something if you'd like," Fleur said helpfully; of course, her playful grin promised that he wouldn't necessarily get something he liked. He decided he'd just play along, and as men are prone to do, he let the woman feed him with little conflict.

"Thank you," he said, as she placed a great pile of... meat pie? on his plate. She continued adding other items, some which she herself apparently held in high esteem, judging by the unlady-like portions she was plopping onto her own plate. Her father didn't waste a moment, and before Harry could take a bite of his own food, Mr. Delacour had eaten half his plate.

The conversation that was halted by Fleur's interruption was not renewed, a fact that Harry was increasingly grateful for. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate chatting up Fleur's father (quite the contrary, he figured that every point he won with Monsieur Delacour, he'd win doubly so from his daughter), it was just that what he preferred to talk about was _dreadfully _boring. This time around, however, Mr. Delacour chose to interrogate Harry about the oncoming second task.

"_So_," he began, once again oblivious to Harry's discomfort, "how do you think you'll do on the next task, Harry? I assume you won't be _flying _past the mermen!" He roared in laughter, and Fleur joined him with her light giggles. Harry, on the other hand, nearly choked on his food. "Are you alright, Harry?" Mr. Delacour asked, his meaty hand slapping the boy on the back.

Harry spluttered for a moment, his brain reeling from processing the new information. Delacour had just told him they would be dealing with mermen, and though he had no idea what that entailed, there was no doubt he'd be underwater.. He realized now that he should have tried water to open the egg, and he resolved to do that as soon as possible.

"I'm fine," he said, taking a rasping breath. As he settled down, so did the Delacours, who sat back down and shared a smile at his expense. He joked weakly, "I'm just so used to seeing my friend Ron inhale food I thought I should try it myself."

"Oh, please," Fleur sneered. "If you start to behave like him, I'll have to-"

"Now, now, Fleur," her father said, cheery despite his daughter's demeanor. If he's a friend of Harry's then he must not be too _insufferable_-"

"You don't understand who this _boy _is_, _Papa! He _embarrassed _me in front of all of the schools. He eats like a pig, he dresses like a fool, and _now, _he goes out of his way to be rude to Harry, and they are supposed to be best friends!" Harry was briefly confused; he couldn't understand how she had come by that information, but perhaps she was just a bit savvier than he thought. He didn't have time to that information because Fleur wasn't finished, as she tore into another Weasley-related tantrum. "And his sister is just as bad! I can already see that she hates me for my looks, and I _know_ that she just wants him for herself!"

Harry tried to think of something - _anything _- to say that would defend Ginny and Ron, but in the moment, he didn't have the nerve. Everything she was saying was true, but seen through Fleur's eyes, he didn't think he'd have a different reaction. Fleur was over-bearing at times (oh how he was beginning to find this out firsthand) but it was bearable because she was intelligent and driven as well. She didn't typically paint people with a broad brush, but she obviously held a grudge over Ron's embarrassing invite to the ball.

Fortunately, Mr. Delacour was quick to smile and try to calm his daughter down. "Well, you'll just have to make sure she can't." Just as quickly as Fleur's temper had reached a crescendo, it fell flat. "Delacours always get the thing they set their eye on, Harry," he stage-whispered, glancing over at his daughter. She started to crack a grin, one that Harry returned as well. "I'd do well to remember that if I were you."

"I will, sir," he said, smiling genuinely now that Fleur wasn't beginning to grow feathers. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you and Mrs. Delacour meet?"

"Now that, my boy, was a day to remember." he said, wiping the side of his mouth with a napkin. Harry sensed that a very long, convoluted story was coming, but he didn't mind this time around. Fleur must have already heard her father's recollection of events, perhaps even her mother's own thoughts on the matter, but she smiled and absorbed the story as it was told. Before he knew it, a quick glance at his digital watch showed that it was already past nine, and dinner had been over for quite some time.

"Thank you so much for dinner, Fleur," Harry said, "and you, Mr. Delacour." He stood to shake the older man's hand, drawing a pleased smile from both father and daughter. "It was really nice to meet you, sir."

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal, Harry," he assured the boy, who was almost the same height as he was. "I enjoyed spending time with the two of you, especially Fleur. This year has been especially trying on our family with Fleur so far from home-"

"Oh, Papa, you know I've been away from home before! I'm an adult now. I'm almost-"

"Eighteen years old. I know you are an adult in every way, my dear. You're as beautiful as your mother, as talented as your father, and far more intelligent than the two of us combined! - but you will always be my baby." Harry noticed Fleur try to hide her blush, and decided that she was most certainly a Daddy's girl. "In any case, I know you want to move to England after school is over, and in many ways I commend you for your drive and focus. But in every way, I miss my daughter."

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her rather tightly, though Fleur seemed to squeeze him just as hard. "Take care of her, Harry," he said with a wink. "Or the second task will be the least of your worries..." He turned away, presumably to grab his coat, and Fleur made to join him, if only to walk him over to the chimney in the next room. He had already said he was going to Floo back to _chateau Delacour, _which was located somewhere near Brest (a location that Harry nearly laughed at, but for Fleur's last ditch glare. Fortunately, he had not made a fool of himself - that time).

"I won't take my eyes off of her, sir," Harry mumbled, just loud enough for Fleur to hear as she swept out of the door. Surprisingly enough, she blushed again, giving him a smile that nearly made him crazy. She didn't need an allure to do that, he thought.

Harry waited as the two of them slipped into the following room, pondering the nights events. Her father had been refreshingly kind, not at all like Harry had expected. Of course, he had based that merely on Fleur's good looks, and had worried himself half to death over how brutal the man would be as soon as he took one wrong look at the girl's body. By good fortune, Mr. Delacour had missed those looks, as Harry had not quite been able to totally clamp down when the opportunities had presented themselves. He wasn't a complete pervert about it, but he thought to himself that only the dim-witted or blind wouldn't stare at Fleur - with the small exception being those that preferred the same sex. Perhaps Colin Creevey...

"You were fantastic, Harry," Fleur declared, breaking him from his thoughts. She hugged him lightly, and he tried not to squirm, the feeling of silk and the smell of her hair clouding his senses. "Papa really liked you, I think. He wants to wish you well before the next task," she said, surprising him. "I'm pretty sure that means he approves of the two of us."

"Why do you say that?" Harry wondered aloud. "I don't feel like I made a very good impression. I mean, I nearly choked at one point-"

"You handled yourself well in front of my father," she said, one arm still wrapped loosely around his waist. Harry found himself suddenly concentrating on everything except Fleur, sensing that some boundary between the two was about to disappear forever. Her father had left already, and the house elf was either unseen or otherwise occupied; they were blissfully, and for Harry, quite frighteningly alone. "You have no idea how much that means to me..."

Actually, he did have some idea. Fleur looked at him through her eyelashes, a domineering look on her flawless face. Despite it all, Harry couldn't resist saying, "and I didn't know any of the food, but it really was quite good." She watched as he verbally discounted every smooth move he'd made in the last thirty minutes. "Your father was really nice to me, and all I could do is make a smart comment behind his back at the end, and I kept feeling like I wasn't good enough for you-"

"Last time he was here," Fleur continued, a half-smile on her face, her words silencing his self-deprecating tirade, "I brought _Roger _with me. He wouldn't try any of the food our elves_slaved_over, he didn't laugh at any of father's jokes, and he could barely speak without mentioning either how pretty I am or how _important_ his father is."

"He sounds like Malfoy," Harry chuckled, calming down a bit. "You know. The blonde _git_ from Slytherin?"

She immediately cottoned on, judging by the face she made. "_He_ makes me sick. Father told me that many of the students in Slytherin have parents that... fought in the war against your parents. Is that true?" He nodded, looking grim. "I think he said that a Malfoy was in Voldemort's inner circle..."

Harry did a double-take, realizing she had just uttered the Dark Lord's name. He was impressed, but it didn't feel right to ruin the evening, so he tried to change the subject.

"Maybe that's a conversation we can have another day, Fleur," he said, defusing the tension. She smiled, obviously in agreement. Thinking quickly, he tried to steer her back into her chair at the dining room table, and even quicker wand work produced a bouquet of flowers for the somewhat stunned girl. It was obvious from her reaction that Fleur didn't often take the passenger seat in a relationship; for Harry, who was the younger of the two, and finally exerting some form of control over the older girl, it was a nice change of pace from what he was used to. He tried not to remind himself that a week ago, he hadn't even kissed anyone, and was in the middle of a very long non-verbal pep talk when he heard Fleur speak. It was then that he became imminently aware of her lips, just inches from his own.

"Harry," Fleur whispered, "Maybe this isn't the best place..." she trailed off, her lips finding his and her tongue seeking hesitant entrance. There was a long pause, as Harry completely forgot about Hermione, the Yule Ball, and briefly, the entire Boy Who Lived nonsense that had haunted him throughout Hogwarts.

"I'm s-" he mumbled against her lips, a second before she pulled away. "I'm sorry, Fleur-"

"Sorry for what?" she straightened her clothing, looking around to make sure they were still alone. "We haven't even done anything to be sorry about yet-"

"No," Harry said, chuckling. "I mean, I'm not sorry for what we're doing, it's just... I don't want you to think that kissing you... _and_ stuff... is all I care about." He didn't like the way his voice jumped up an octave when he said it, but he was at least sincere about it. The last thing he needed was Fleur running off, claiming he assaulted her or something...

"What if it's all _I_ care about?" she said, her eyes dancing. "We're young, Harry... and we both know that this... whatever it is, is unlikely to last any longer than the Triwizard tournament, if it even makes it that long. I don't say that to hurt your feelings," she assured him, "but I'm not interested in settling down early, and I want to have some fun before I do! You understand that, don't you?"

Some small part of Harry was disheartened by her words, but he was surprised that he welcomed the news that Fleur wasn't that attached to him. Obviously, she didn't mind a bit of _fun, _as she called it, so he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea.

"I do understand, Fleur, more than you'll ever even know." He shook his head, trying to act a little upset about the situation without throwing a tantrum or shedding a tear. "I hate to say it like this... but being the Boy Who Lived, I'm not sure if I'll make it past the Triwizard Tournament, much less through Hogwarts!"

"Don't say that, Harry!" Fleur said, grabbing him by the wrist. He locked eyes with her slowly, and she softly said, "We're going to make it together. If anything happens out there, we'll look after each other, right?" Harry nodded. "The egg said that 'something we cherish' will be taken from us. All we have to do is win it back in the alotted time..."

Harry pondered her words, but realized the futility of constantly worrying about it. On his own time, he would decide how to approach the cold water of the lake, and the fact that they'd probably be visiting the creatures within. He thought he recalled something about a plant that could give him fins... "Well, we can't copy each other or we'll end up losing points, but whatever you decide to do, I promise I'll help you. There should be no reason any of us actually _lose _what they've taken from us."

She smiled. "You're a good person, Harry Potter."

"As are you, Fleur Delacour."

For a long time, neither said anything, content to just stare at each other. Fleur's smile never wavered, and Harry found himself tickled pink just to share a quiet moment with her. Typically, she would talk his ear off and he'd struggle to keep up with her accent. But the calm, composed woman next to him was nothing like the girl from earlier. This was a girl that he wouldn't want to let go after the Third Task.

Finally, Fleur leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips, glancing at his digital watch in the process. "It's almost midnight," she said. "I think you should probably go..."

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice raspy for some reason. He stifled a yawn, and straightened his tie, preparing to stand up. He did have some difficulty ignoring the awkward shape of his trousers, but Fleur's smile remained.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, suddenly looking nervous.

He shrugged, getting ready to leave. He ran his fingers through his hair trying to make it look like he hadn't been snogging, but gave it up, same as he had a thousands of times before. Fleur opened her mouth, frowned, and then pushed forward with her question. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

_-end of Chapter Eleven-_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Happy New Years! I think I promised that this would be finished by Christmas, but as you can see, we're not quite done yet. It will end when I'm good and ready for it to end! - but I feel a conclusion coming in the next few chapters nonetheless. Everyone go out and get wasted on my behalf (just don't charge the tab to me). See you again in 2014!_


	12. Chapter Twelve

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Twelve**

Harry's recollection of the events leading up to his improbable overnight stay in Fleur's sleeping quarters was clouded by the liquor she handed him virtually as soon as he walked through the door. Harry was unfamiliar with the effects of Muggle alcohol (particularly this curiously green bottle marked Absinthe) and therefore had no idea how powerful it could be in copious amounts. Fleur, of course, only wanted to drink from the bottle when he was holding it, and they took turns sharing the Absinthe until Harry realized their third companion (a blonde who looked strangely just like Fleur) was a figment of his imagination, while the pounding in his head was, unfortunately, quite real.

All that he could be sure of, now that Fleur had laid her head on his shoulder and was lightly singing something in French, was that his name was Harry Potter and that he was the luckiest wizard alive. They had left the dining room together sometime well after midnight in only their robes (Harry found that Fleur was rather good at _wandless_ warming charms) and they had somehow arrived in her room without anyone the wiser. They fought to quiet their otherwise raucous laughter on the way by Madame Maxime's quarters, and now, with a half-eaten scone in his left hand, his head was clearing up slowly but surely. Thank Merlin Fleur had thought to bring a few with them from the dining hall.

Harry tried not to groan. His shoulder was aching something fierce, but he couldn't possibly move it; whether his lethargy was from intoxication or the blissful feeling of Fleur's body shoved up against him he couldn't not say. "Am I hurting your arm?" she asked, moving her head for one second to gaze into his green eyes. The overwhelming relief flowing through his now sensate arms evaporated when he shook his head no, inviting her to rest against him once more.

"You're a good singer," he informed her, having been listening for quite some time. "'Course I don't know what you're singing _about, _but it's... a moving melody." He tried to brace his arm as best he could, but he decided a numbing charm tomorrow would probably be more advantageous in the short term.

Fleur smiled, her eyes slightly closed in the dim light. Harry stared blearily at the moon shining through the only window in the room, but it was still very dark; Harry nearly fainted when Fleur took advantage of his distraction to change into something resembling pajamas. Unfortunately for Harry, she made him face the other way while she changed, but he disobeyed her long enough to get a decent peek at her all the same. He was pretty sure she noticed him staring at the small of her back just as her shirt slipped down, removing her waistline from view, but she said nothing, her usual confident grin still firmly in place. Her clothes were rather form fitting as well, her likely expensive pajamas just as silky to the touch as her usual attire, and in the serenity of the night, he couldn't resist daringly running his other fingers down her exposed thigh. To his great surprise, he found that she wasn't ticklish, which left Harry wondering if this was yet another exquisite trait from her Veela heritage.

"No," Fleur laughed, her fingers nimbly tying her hair in a bun. "I'm not." Harry's murmur of disagreement led to further denials of singing prowess, though she seemed pleased all the same. "At least, not as good as the woman who sings this one..."

He stifled another yawn, going as far as to clasp a hand over his mouth in denial. They were coming fast and furious now, but he wasn't about to go to sleep without a hell of a fight. Fleur giggled, as it was obvious they were both sleep-deprived, and Harry giggled too. A moment passed, their quiet laughter drifting away into silence, but Harry was too inebriated to feel uncomfortable; the Boy-Who-Lived leaned down for a kiss that was eagerly returned. Somehow, during the interval between pressing his mouth against hers and removing it to catch his breath, Harry found himself sitting shoeless on her queen-sized bed, and before he knew it, Fleur was on top of him, her hands quick and nimble with his tie. He shrugged it over his neck unthinkingly and recaptured her lips, but it wasn't long before they both stopped, realizing that they were both lying on the bed, drunk, nearly unclothed and, in Harry's case, inches from places they had only dreamed of touching.

Embarrassingly, it was Fleur who asked the question he almost blurted himself. "Are you ready for this? I don't want you to rush into anything-"

"Fleur," he said, his head abuzz and his heart fluttering like that dragon was chasing him again. "I've been ready since you asked me to stay. Whatever you want me to do... I can do it. I want to do it." The darkness in the room did little to stop the bright colors flaring before his eyes, but fortunately, his stomach wasn't rebelling against the sensation. Fleur watched him with a reserved look, and he knew he had to act intelligently or she was going to stop the amazing things she was doing to him. "I promise, there's no one I'd rather... _lose my virginity to_," he said, rushing through the words, "than you." He counted his blessings that he hadn't entirely squeaked when he said it.

"Okay," she said, simply taking him at his word. Fleur said no more, the blankets swept over her head, and Harry gawked at himself in a mirror. She trailed what he supposed was a palm down his stomach to his waistline, making him to squirm in a way that she apparently enjoyed causing. "You asked for this..."

For once, Harry had no conflicting emotions; his mind was in an impenetrable fog and yet, everything seemed more clear, and felt more pleasurable, than ever before. Within the young man and woman there was no noble resolve to wait for the right person, and by happy chance, fate was on their side, as there was no giant Headmistress bursting into the room to stop them.

Fleur, who was overwhelmed by her own allure, felt only a rush of pleasure and an intense desire to return the favor that she couldn't quite fathom, but relished all the same. When they started, Harry's lack of experience meant there was some awkward fumbling around that Fleur patiently ignored, but once they had finished, they held each other as they fell asleep, with Harry thinking he had just barely managed to perform admirably and Fleur too tuckered out to think at all.

* * *

><p>Hermione slept restlessly that evening, nightmarish scenes flittering through her dreams. One minute she was being chased through Hogwarts by a mad man on a broom, and the next, she was crying for help, being swallowed by an overly-large toilet that reminded her of the night that had brought three friends together. She decided she must have eaten something strange that night, but she could clearly recall being too disheartened to eat at dinner. Over and over she tried to return to slumber, but her heart was telling her that something was wrong. She did at least acknowledge that it had to do with Harry and Fleur, but she assumed her best friend would be asleep by now.<p>

"Not that _I_ can sleep," Hermione thought miserably, growing annoyed with the sound of Crookshanks' purring. Irritated, she cursed the cat, sweeping the blankets off of her and getting out of bed. The cat in question yowled and grabbed at the sheets, and Hermione pulled back, determined not to lose to her own pet. "Bad pussy! Bad!"

"Oh, gross, Hermione! Use the Astronomy Tower like everyone else!"

There was scattered laughter amongst the girls dorms, as most of the room was still asleep. Hermione decided to go ahead and get up, and hopefully ignore the heat rising in her cheeks completely. She quickly took a shower and brushed her teeth (despite insisting to herself that she didn't care what her parents thinked) but she ultimately decided not to go the extra mile in fixing her appearance as she certainly wasn't looking to impress anyone. A second glance in the mirror left her combing her hair a hundred times and putting into tight ringlets that Hermione couldn't quite believe she pulled off by the time she finished.

In fact, her confidence was beginning to rise when she left the dorms and headed downstairs. However, once she reached the common room to enjoy her Saturday morning (she hadn't quite decided whether she'd spend it in the library or if she was going to take a trip to the owlery to mail that letter to her parents), Hermione became aware that there were far more children gossiping than normal, particularly the ones in the upper years. Usually that meant that Harry had done something stupid, and since he hadn't been consulting her for advice lately, that meant he probably wasn't going to get away with it. She hid a smile, a small, bitter part of her hoping Harry had got in trouble for his date with Fleur.

Parvati was scowling at a wall, looking ready to hit it with the same spell she had decked Katie Bell with. Lavender was declaring to everyone in arms reach that she had always hated Harry, and she didn't _care _if he was the second coming of Merlin, and Seamus Finnegan better not laugh or she'd show him just where her wand would fit. Hermione's head was spinning, wondering why so many people could be angry with Harry so quickly, when she ran into the one boy she couldn't stand to hear talking about her best friend.

"I don't bloody believe it," Cormac McClaggen was saying, looking like Christmas wouldn't be held that year. "The best looking girl... in the _bloody world_, and he shacks up with her _on the first date_!"

The last word sent Hermione's mind into overdrive. It was with a venomous snarl on her face that she stepped up to Cormac, very quickly grabbing everyone's attention. "_What_," she started, her voice as sharp as Tracy Davis' fingernails, "are you talking about?"

Suddenly, no one wanted to reveal what they had just been freely discussing, which only served to make Hermione even angrier. Cormac finally bit the bullet, turning to Hermione with a smile that only he could have in the face of her wrath. "You don't know about Harry and Fleur's date?"

The instant narrowing of her eyes obviously answered that question.

"I guess he didn't say anything to _you_," he teased, ignorant of Hermione's rage. The girl in question was simmering, her hand unconsciously drifting toward the wand in her robes. McClaggen tended to bring out the worst in her, but Cormac knew once he revealed the big secret she was clamoring for, her anger would be redirected. "He never came back to his dorm last night! Ron just went to look for him. 'Course I never thought he had the stones to do it, but-"

"Let me get this straight," Hermione said, her mind awhirl. Her neck was a vibrant pink, as her irritation was made plain for everyone to see. "Harry left last night, but he hasn't been back." Cormac nodded, but Hermione wasn't finished. "But that doesn't mean that he was with Fleur all night."

"But that's the thing!" Cormac yelped, as some of the students started to laugh. "Romilda was looking out of one of the tower windows late last night and she saw the two of them sneaking around! They were even holding hands and falling all over each other in the snow! Tell 'em, Romilda..."

A glance at the brunette showed that the girl was near catatonic, her distress painted across her tear-stained cheeks. Hermione, however, was not deterred, unwilling to believe that Harry had actually slept with Fleur last night. "It _still _does not mean that Harry and Fleur were together all night! What time did she see them anyway?"

"It was almost three in the morning, Hermione!" She turned to see Ron coming back through the portrait hole, an angry gleam in his brown eyes. "I've looked for him everywhere," he admitted, frowning. "Not at Hagrid's; not in the Hall or the Room. No one I talked to from Ravenclaw's seen him either. I almost went to ask Dumbledore but then _they'll_ think You Know Who is after him..."

There was an angry shout from a younger student, whose brother had stepped on him when Ron yelled out 'You Know Who'. Everyone ignored the boy in favor of watching Hermione, who looked like she wanted to belt someone (and had actually done it before, which caused even Ron to hesitate and take a step back). There was a pause as everyone gauged the potential risk of antagonizing Hermione, and one or two students edged away from the crowd, trying to look like they weren't eavesdropping to begin with. Seconds passed, the blaze from the fireplace sending shadows rising and falling around the common room and giving everything a very eerie atmosphere. And then, almost as if speaking of Voldemort had brought his nemesis to the door, Harry Potter waltzed through the portrait hole.

The deer in headlights look on Harry's face notwithstanding, he actually handled his silent reception really well. He glanced at Ron, who stared stonily at a spot just over his head, and then to Hermione, whose face promised weeks, if not months, of prolonged silence, and somehow he was able to keep his face blank. Controlling his every movement in an attempt to look unconcerned, he stiffly made his way across the common room only briefly asking Seamus to move out of the way en route to his dorm. Without turning back around, he walked up the steps and out of sight, crawling into bed and hoping against all hope that no one would ask him any questions about the night. He was just too exhausted to speak, and he'd need a good morning's rest (and perhaps some of the early afternoon) before he'd be able to deal with the inevitable backlash from his actions.

Downstairs, however, Ron and Hermione spoke to each other in quiet, albiet angry, voices. "It still doesn't mean that he _had sex _with her, Ronald!" Hermione was seething quite rightly, but she still didn't suspect that Harry had actually accomplished an act of wonton debauchery with Fleur, a simple kissing session notwithstanding. She thought perhaps they had spent the evening together without anything foolish going on. Spitefully, she declared thatHarry probably got embarrassed and didn't want to come back to the dorm early and explain why Fleur dumped him. Hermione thought _that _would account for his stoic silence...

Ron, on the other hand, was certain that Harry had done _something_, though he refused to believe Fleur would have let his friend go _all the way_ (which Ron found virtually unthinkable. Harry was a kid like him for Merlin's sake!). It almost felt like one of Fred and George's practical jokes, and judging by the merriment the twins found in the situation, it could have very well been their idea.

"Good on 'em, I say," Fred opined. "It couldn't have happened to a better, more deserving chap than our Harry." He wasn't talking to Ron or Hermione, but he was standing close enough for them to hear, and his exuberance rubbed them both the wrong way. Fred, for his part, was probably _trying_ to get on their nerves. "I just can't believe it happened so fast!"

George agreed, his mop of red hair bouncing as he nodded in confirmation. "I don't know what happened to him in the last year," he said, "but Harry's certainly grown up. First, all of the parties, and now he's bagging girls left and right-"

"Bagging, tagging, _shagging_, whatever you want to call it-"

The boys laughed uproariously, and the clamor was too much for young Hermione. "ENOUGH!" she screeched. She paused, the eyes of everyone in the common room on her once again. When she finally spoke, it was at a much lower volume, barely more than a whisper. "Harry is not _bagging _or _shagging girls, _and I refuse to believe Fleur did anything more than go to dinner with her father!"

Romilda, still downcast, but at least no longer crying, spoke to Hermione for the first time either girl could remember. "What if I told you I had proof?"

A different Gryffindor trio walked across the frozen grounds of Hogwarts that morning, the new member of the group leading them with forceful steps forward. Of course, her self-assured strut meant that Ron had to catch Romilda when she nearly fell, but they were otherwise undisturbed until they reached the edge of the Forbidden forest.

"What exactly are we looking for again?" Ron asked, a wary note in his voice. He had never liked being close to the forest, as he knew firsthand that it was full of dangerous creatures. Even the notoriously feminine Ms. Vane must have heard the stories, as she stood a bit closer to Ron in response. "I'd rather not stand here any longer than we have to-"

"Oh, hush, Ron," Hermione told him briskly, her eyes scanning the countryside. "Aragog won't hurt you on Hogwarts grounds..."

Though neither of them would mention it to the other, Ron and Hermione were both uncomfortable this close to the forest without Harry. Hermione, in particular, felt a little lost with just Ron to rely on. Romilda, for her part. couldn't fight off an angry niffler, much less an entire herd of Acromantulas.

"Who is Aragog?" the girl casually asked. She bit one fingernail nervously, her eyes watching Ron.

"But Bane probably would," Ron continued, heedless of Romilda. "And Aragog's children _definitely would_!"

Hermione and Ron traded barbs back and forth, and Romilda decided to pretend they were just winding her up; shaking her head, she left their side, drawing a little closer to the forest. Walking over to a particularly stubby tree, she started waving her wand back and forth. Hermione looked ready to tear in to her for improper wand movement, when the third year girl gasped in surprise. "It's right here," she swore. "I saw the two of them _right here_!" Her excitement was readily apparent, but _what_ she was excited about was not quite as obvious.

Hermione paused, trying not to be irritated with the girl. Magic was a tricky thing, and it _was _possible that something could be hidden in plain sight. After some thought, she began to wonder if there was some sort of password. "Open," she insisted, pointing her wand at the tree. It stubbornly remained a tree, causing Ron to joke, "Why don't you say something in Parseltongue?"

She snarled at him, before realizing that for once, he had given her the answer - unwittingly, perhaps, but he had led her intelligence in the right direction in any case. "You're a genius, Ron," she blurted, catching him off-guard.

Romilda mouthed, "_Genius?_

"_Ouvert-"_ Hermione commanded. Her summer visits to France had apparently paid dividends as _something_ immediately began to move. Romilda fell again as the ground began rumbling, trees sinking into the ice all around them. The redheaded boy eyed Romilda confusedly, about to ask her why she kept falling on him, when a broad building appeared in front of them, nearly knocking him on his arse as well. Rather than a dormitory as Romilda expected, Hermione opened the thick door in front of them, revealing a small dining hall. "This must have been where they ate," Hermione thought aloud, walking into the building and admiring the distinctly French decorations. The place reminded her of Paris, and while she typically was amazed by such things as architecture and aesthetical integrity, the thought of Harry being enamored with France did _not _please her. "This was your proof?" she scoffed, just barely containing a laugh at the other girl's expense.

Romilda spotted a house elf coming around the corner, and pointed at the surprised elf, bouncing on the toes of her high-heeled shoes. "Look! Maybe _it _knows something-"

Hermione recoiled as if struck. "_It _has a name, and _it _is obviously a boy-"

"Calm down, Hermione," Ron said, chuckling, giving the black-haired girl across from them an easy smile. She returned it with some excitement; it was painfully obvious that she didn't get into many adventures with her own friends. "Romilda didn't mean anything by it, I'm sure-"

The bushy-haired Gryffindor spoke to the house elf by herself, Ron inspecting the dining room with an experienced eye and Romilda ready to flee if any authority figures appeared. It took a bit longer for Hermione to get her point across than she would have liked, but eventually the house elf understood who and what she was talking about. He made hands signals to describe Harry (taking off his beret and dragging one sharp fingernail in a line across his forehead) and Fleur (who was known simply as 'Floor Liquor') but unfortunately, he couldn't pinpoint where they had run off to after her father had left for the evening. However, he did let Hermione know that the couple had spent a long time in the dining hall 'sticking their faces together' after Fleur's father had left by Floo.

"He doesn't know much, but he did say Fleur and Harry were here last night and that they left together when they were finished eating." She decided not to mention that her friend had been making out for quite some time before he left.  
>"That doesn't prove anything," she said, getting frustrated once again. Ron wasn't around, so Hermione turned to give Romilda a piece of her mind and found the girl facing away from her, inspecting something on the floormat nearest the entrance. "What <em>are<em> you doing?"

Romilda ignored her, following the trail of dirt out the door. Ron cottoned on a second before Hermione did, saying, "Hey! These look like Harry's trainers..."

Hermione looked at the small, oddly-shaped tracks leading out the way they had just come. Apparently, the older house elf's eyes were failing, as he had completely missed the dirty spots around the exit. "I'm pretty sure they are," she told Romilda, working overtime to hold back a compliment. Her tone was slightly less frosty when she asked, "Can you see which way they went?"

After another minute or so of searching, Ron spotted another set of footprints, this time distinctly shaped like an open-toed shoe. Hermione thought idly that Fleur's feet must have been freezing that late at night, but she tried to ignore this thought, still certain that Harry hadn't done anything he was accused of. "It looks like they went to the right, around the building..."

Unfortunately, the sheer amount of snowfall overnight caused what little trail there was to be lost. This, of course, annoyed all three of the students, though Ron shrugged off his irritation with very little effort. "Why don't we just go back to the tower and ask him?" he asked, looking curious. "He can't run from us forever."

"Well, it's not like he's going to tell the truth," Romilda said. "I mean, wouldn't you lie if you were in his shoes?"

Ron shrugged again. "It depends, I guess..." he trailed off, trying not to look at Hermione.

Of course, she picked up on his hesitation immediately. "On what?" she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

"Well, I guess I'd lie to protect someone."

Hermione considered this. "Like yourself?"

"Maybe..." he muttered unthinkingly, this time drawing Hermione's ire. He tried to make it up for it by saying, "I mean, if I was protecting myself _and _someone else-"

"It's a good thing that you aren't Harry then," she said, turning away and missing Ron's agonized face. Even Hermione knew she had hit a nerve, though she did not feel bad about it in the slightest. Romilda reached over and patted him on the shoulder consolingly, and Ron somehow managed a half-smile.

"Why are you treating _me _like dirt, Hermione?" he asked, stopping her in her tracks. "Harry's the one you should be angry with-"

"Oh, trust me," she said, scrunching up her face. "I'm plenty angry with Harry. But you've been just as bad, if not _worse_, Ron." He gave her a look that plainly said she was mad, but she scoffed. "You can be angry with me, that's fine, but what do _you _have to be angry with _him _about? Hmm? He never did _anything_ to you."

"He _knew _how much I liked you," he said, his ears burning. Both girls fell silent, watching the redhead who was pacing back and forth, looking frustrated. "I told him time and time again that I really wanted to ask you out... I," he paused, perhaps realizing for the first time who he was talking to. "I just didn't have the courage yet! Each time he said you were like a sister to him," he said, unknowingly tugging at Hermione's heart, "and that I should go for it, because he'd like nothing more than to see us happy. But he was lying! _He_ fancies you too!"

"He does not-"

"Then what was that kiss?" Ron raged, his face turning a shade purple. "Do you think I'm blind?"

"That kiss meant _nothing, _Ron!" Despite her words, Hermione knew she was lying. She could still feel Harry's lips against her a week later. "He only did it to..."

"_What_?" Ron said, a bit of his Weasley temper starting to come through. "He only did it to find out _what it was like_? Tell me you're not that gullible, Hermione!"

He had taken the words right out of her mouth, when she couldn't voice them herself. That didn't mean she was going to let him know that. "_Gullible_? Are you trying to say I'm a _fool_?"

Ron didn't dare answer that question. "I saw the look on his face when he kissed you! The Harry I know would never kiss someone if he didn't mean it."

Romilda was the one to scoff at that comment. "I think we can all say that this isn't the Harry we know."

As Romilda soon found, it was not a good strategy to break up a Ron and Hermione argument.

"Who asked you?" Hermione seethed. "As if you even know Harry at all!" Unable to tame her own anger, she sought refuge by heading for the castle. "Forget this," she announced, walking away from the building. "_I _will ask Harry what he did, and he _will _tell me the truth. No more mucking about in the _bloody _snow..."

She mumbled a slew of rude comments under her breath, and Ron stood there watching her retreat, the grounds silent but for the slow rhythm of Romilda's palm patting him on the back. "Let's go," he told the girl, shrugging her off without being entirely rude about it. In fact, as they walked back to the castle with Romilda chattering on energetically, Ron found he had no energy to be rude at all.

He inwardly asked himself what he could do to rectify the sitation, but he was honestly stumped; as far as he could tell, there was no path out of his inner turmoil, except to apologize to everyone and try to slowly encourage things to return to normal. In his eleven years in the Weasley household, he had always been the last one to seek forgiveness, and his mom often told him being stubborn would get him nowhere. Of course, that didn't make it any easier for him to admit fault, especially given the circumstances.

_Why does it always have to be Harry_? Ron thought, unamused. It was laughable to believe that Harry and Fleur could have hit it off as well as they did, and yet, the only person likely laughing about it was Harry himself. Disappointed as Ron felt in himself, after Hermione's rant, he couldn't summon the determination to be mad at Harry any longer; if Ron was honest, he wouldn't have done things any differently if the roles were reversed.

He had been wanting to kiss Hermione for the last two years, though he didn't express his emotions to Harry until after their third year. The Yule Ball had awoken a deeper longing within Ron, and he knew that if Harry had not pushed him into his date with Padma, he would have probably shown his ass in front of everyone the moment that Hermione stepped out on Viktor's arm.

Luckily for him, Hermione didn't seem to even care about Viktor since the night of the ball, but that only meant that her focus was on another black-haired tournament competitor. Ron could see that distancing himself from Harry (as well as Hermione's self-enforced exile in their friend's life) had only encouraged the Boy Who Lived to seek other, apparently greener, pastures. Fleur's kiss after the ball could have been a one-off, but the fact that Hermione had stopped being Harry's best friend had obviously led to Fleur taking their relationship to the next level.

Ron decided he'd at least forgive his friend for seeing Fleur, even if he wasn't quite ready to forget about Harry kissing Hermione. Embarrassingly, Ron admitted that it would be a lot easier if he was kissing someone himself.

"Hey," Romilda said, trying to get the older boy's attention. "Ron, are you alive in there?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face and was eventually rewarded with the redhead's attention. "I've been trying to get you listen for a while! Look, up there..." The boy frowned, his eyes following her index finger to the top of Gryffindor tower.

"_Oh_, boy," he said, noting that Harry and Hermione were both having it out. Apparently, the latter was screaming at the top of her lungs, and the former had one of the ugliest, meanest looks Ron had ever seen on his face. "Maybe we should hurry..."

Romilda didn't seem like she wanted to go any faster, but Ron took off at a dead sprint, so she hurried to follow him. She hoped that someone would stop them before they really got in a fight and McGonagall lit them up for House Points. Thinking quickly, she left Ron and headed toward their Professor's office, praying that the Head of House had not already heard her two prized pupils freaking out on each other.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Twelve-<em>


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Harry woke up to a pounding headache, vomit on his robes, and the sound of Dean and Neville fighting. While Harry's lethargic mind reasoned that the first and third things he had noticed were commonplace for a Saturday morning in a boy's dormitory, and he could have expected the vomit after a night of too much drinking, he didn't think any of these things were sufficient reasons to get him up this early.

_Fleur could really get me up..._ Harry thought, wearing a lazy, slightly delirious smile as he drifted back into slumber. The next time he returned to awareness, he was disappointed to find himself alone in his four-poster, having had a particularly vivid dream about Ms. Delacour. For once, he hadn't been troubled by visions of Voldemort, and he didn't have to stifle a scream when he woke up. Unfortunately, he did briefly consider cursing out his dorm mates when he heard how loud they were being.

"He's got to get up _right now_," Neville said, stepping into the room. "Professor-"

"Oh, no, I'm not going to be the one to wake him up!" Dean murmured an excuse that the Boy Who Remained in Bed couldn't hear. His head ached maddeningly with every noise made in the tower, and he decided half-heartedly that Nev would be his new best friend if he'd just shove off. He placed his pillow over his ear and pressed his head into the sheets, trying to fall back asleep with limited success; within seconds the curtains around his bed had been thrust open violently and Harry screamed like a vampire being burned alive.

"Aagh," he moaned piteously. "Cut out the light!"

Laughter was heard, telling Harry that Seamus was also present. "Why are you so sleepy?" Harry's eyes were still shut but he flinched as someone poked him with a stick. "Wakey, wakey, Harry..."

"If you don't want your wand crushed into a billion pieces," Harry snarled, finally propping himself up on one elbow, looking at Dean with all the fury he could muster, "then I'd suggest you piss off!" Unfortunately, this only brought about more laughter, even from Neville, and Harry was prodded once more by the offensive wand. The horribly hungover boy shifted to grab his own wand out of his robes, but Seamus had already moved and instead Dean was forced back, waving his hands defensively as angry orange sparks flew through the bed curtains.

"Sorry!" he said, looking a little afraid to be precariously placed at the end of Harry's wand. "Someone's here for you."

"Who?" he asked the others, clearly in disbelief. Seamus joined the two boys at Harry's bedside, his smile easily as annoying as the others. Harry looked to Neville, who shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to give his friend a hint that, unfortunately, flew right over Harry's hungover head. He belatedly realized he didn't care _who_ it was, and made a decent attempt at closing the curtains again, this time with sticking charms. "Nevermind," he said, sliding back underneath his sheets with a sigh. He placed the pillow back over his head and closed his eyes, ignoring his roommates. "Whoever it is can go sit on a root!" His voice was muffled by the pillowcase, but the three boys heard him all the same.

Their laughter was prematurely replaced by the type of silence that precedes imminent danger. "Mr. Potter, I will have you know, that I once sat on a root when I was a young lad, and I'm in no hurry to repeat the experience."

Harry's eyes grew to the size of galleons; in the span of three seconds, he recognized the voice as Professor Dumbledore, tore the sheets off of his body, snatched open his curtains, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Smiling nervously, he tried not to look guilty of anything more than a late morning lie in. The Headmaster faced him over his half-moon spectacles, a curious but pleasant expression on his face. "I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, honestly feeling like a total jerk now that he knew who had come to see him. "I didn't know-"

"I'm sure you didn't; otherwise, you'd be serving detention in Herbology, where I have no doubt you could find a sizeable root to sit on." Harry had the good sense to bow his head, unable to look at his friends, who would be going insane trying to stifle their laughter right about now. "Alas, I'm not here to assign detention, but to speak to you a bit more privately..." he trailed off, looking at the three boys, who knew better than to test the Headmaster's patience and wasted little time exiting the dorm.

"Good luck," Neville mouthed, sparing only the briefest glance at the smiling Professor as he left. Harry felt like he just might need it, inwardly wondering how the heck the Headmaster found out about his night with Fleur so quickly. Did Dumbledore see Harry and Fleur leaving the dining hall? Was Madame Maxime more awake last night than they thought?

"Harry, I'm going to be frank with you. You're a good wizard, and you're growing into a smart," he coughed, "_frighteningly_ popular young man." There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Dumbledore now knew what he and Fleur had been up to. "That does not mean that you are an adult, nor that you should behave in a way that suggests you are; it behooves me to encourage you to practice self-control rather than for me to preach abstinence as a virtue..."

In all of his time at Hogwarts, Harry had never been more mortified. Albus Dumbledore was giving him a talk about the birds and the bees, and what's more, he was trying to be nonchalant about it, as if he didn't know this was the singularly most embarrassing experience of Harry's short life.

"When a man reaches a certain age, he will begin to have urges that are tremendously difficult to ignore, particularly when members of the opposite sex are in the vacinity. It is vastly important then, that you recognize the repercussions of any intimate actions-"

"Sir-"

"-can lead to an unwanted pregnancy or even sexually-transmitted, magical herpasiphilitis which, I can personally guarantee, Madame Pomfrey is not so well-versed in healing-"

"Professor-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange, for example, was an able-bodied witch with quite fetching good looks before she learned of some of the heinous rituals from the texts in her father's library, sinking deeper and deeper in her search for carnal knowledge-

"Headmaster!" Harry interrupted, a moment before he lost his sanity completely, "I appreciate your concerns - really, I do - but can I ask why you're coming to see me now?"

Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. The addled-minded facade he had been wearing slipped away until all that was left was an old man's sorrow. This, obviously, did not bode well for the conversation they were about to have. "When you were but a child," he began, looking away from Harry, "I sealed an enchantment around your Aunt and Uncle's home that would protect you until you reached the age of majority. You'd be seventeen years old then, well on your way toward becoming a man who could carry on the Potter line. The blood ties between yourself, Lily, and of course Petunia, meant that as long as your Aunt let you live there, Voldemort and any of his ilk could not enter, or even _find_, your residence." He smiled, belying his depressed demeanor. "Quite a bit of clever magic on my part, if you don't mind me saying so."

Harry didn't mind, nor was he thinking about Dumbledore's skill with enchanting. The young Gryffindor didn't understand the full ramifications of what Dumbledore was saying, but he did at least strain his mental capacities to get the gist of it. His mother had died to protect him and as long as he was underage and lived with Petunia, he would be safe from Voldemort. So, he wondered, why did Dumbledore seem distressed? He had previously denied all attempts to leave the Dursley's so why the sudden change of heart? Was Harry still going back in the summer?

"What aren't you telling me, sir?" he asked, a little frustrated and still very headsick. He noticed the yellow and green muck on the edge of his robes and tried to shift them out of Dumbledore's eyeline while the man spoke.

"I'll get to the point, Harry; I can sense this is uncomfortable for you." He sighed, shaking his head. It surprised Harry to see such a miserable expression on his Headmaster's face. "Last night, the protections placed around the Dursley's home - _your_ home, Harry... they ceased to be. The wards fell."

Harry gawked at the Headmaster. "What... what happened? Was there an attack?" Harry, typically the one with the level head on his shoulders, began to panic, remarkably worried about his tyrannical adoptive family. "Is everyone okay?"

"Oh no, my boy, they are quite fine! Your Aunt and Uncle were escorting... Dudley, is it?... home from the police station, where he had just spent the majority of his evening, so they weren't in the residence at the time."

Harry stifled a grin at his cousin's expense; sometimes he was glad Aunt Petunia hadn't spoiled him as a baby, especially since Dudley tended to get into trouble far more often than he did. However cold his Aunt and Uncle had been, they had instilled (and at times beaten) some common sense into him.

With a smile, Dumbledore added, "Did you know that you have something on your robes? It looks like one of those delightful Puking Pastilles Mr. Filch took from the Weasley twins. Yours is decidedly more green, however. Did they try using Gillyweed as I suggested?" The Headmaster's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. Harry's own smile fell, while Dumbledore's grew.

_Trust the old man to know everything_, Harry thought.

"The point I'm trying to make, Harry," Dumbledore said, seating himself on Seamus' bed and taking great care not to disrupt any of the boy's belongings. He soon changed his mind as the venerable Headmaster took one whiff of the odor pouring off the clothes lying next to him and decided to stand instead. "Besides the fact that Mr. Finnegan is in desperate need of a house elf," he joked, to Harry's quiet laughter, "is that... the _romantic_ aspects of your relationship with a certain young lady from Beauxbatons brought about a premature removal of the magic protecting you from Voldemort. For this, I can not blame you-"

Harry prayed that Dumbledore had just chosen his words unwisely, as it very much sounded like he was impressed with Harry for sleeping with a bird like Fleur, but he bit his lip, wisely deciding that it was purely unintentional.

"-nor did you have any way of knowing that the wards would fall as a result of your ill-timed actions. I would not dictate to you what your life has in store," he paused, his blue eyes twinkling, "no more so than necessary in my position as a school official, but as things stand, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to return to the Dursleys this summer."

Harry thought he must be dreaming; his most bizarre, unrealistic fantasy had just come to life. The Mirror of Erised had showed him his greatest desire as an eleven year old, but this he could work with. Apparently, all he had to do to lose the Dursleys was... get drunk and sleep with Fleur Delacour. It did not even sound like Dumbledore was going to punish him for sneaking out!

"While I strongly believe none of Voldemort's followers knew the location of your Aunt and Uncle's home before I placed you with them, if they were to find out in the near future, whether through magical means or a simple slip of the tongue..."

Harry certainly wouldn't be revealing to anyone that his residence was in Surrey now, but he hadn't thought about that a few years ago, and he imagined he must have told someone about it. At the very least, Ron and Hermione knew where he lived, and though he hesitated to say they wouldn't keep his trust even though they weren't quite on speaking terms, they could be tortured for information. Knowing that Voldemort was out there because of Harry's occasional visions of the Dark Lord's criminal actions, did absolutely nothing to reassure him.

"Sir, I think I understand why I wouldn't be allowed back at the Dursley's, but... why is Voldemort... I mean, _assuming_ it is him... determined to kill me? You've said yourself that someone entered me into this competition, and... if the end game is my head on a silver platter, then they wouldn't let that much time pass and give me a chance of disappearing. I need to be make plans now. I need to be prepared now!"

His frustration must have shown on his face, as Dumbledore looked stricken by the younger man's words. Indecision flickered briefly across his forehead, his crinkled brow showing a glimpse of the stress he was under, but he shook it off after a few moments. He stood, his ancient legs creaking, and without addressing Harry, he walked past him to gaze out across the grounds, stroking his long beard.

"Harry," the great wizard began, beckoning his pupil forward. "How much do you know about prophecies?"

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Harry knew very little about prophecies, though Dumbledore was only too happy to indulge his curiosity. Of course, curiosity had quickly turned into anger at the way this important piece of information had been kept from him his entire life. The fact that he would be expected to fight Voldemort if he returned was not welcome news to the fourteen year old. Once he had settled down (after "accidentally" setting Ron's bed curtains aflame), Dumbledore explained a great many other things to him.<p>

Apparently, Dumbledore had been researching the methods by which the Dark Lord had sustained life even after becoming a spirit, and he had traced him back to Albania, where a great many unicorns had been sucked dry and left to die. He had determined, by using his keen intellect and a great many resources he did not care to name, that Voldemort was planning a dark ritual and, left unapprehended, the Dark Lord would return to his body within the year.

As if this wasn't enough of a burden on his mind, Dumbledore also hinted at a personalized lesson plan for Harry that would begin once school was out. "Obviously, I can't be seen helping you for the tournament," the Headmaster had said, "but once the summer starts..."

Harry was very much appreciative of any instruction that the greatest wizard on the planet gave him, but he had a feeling he wouldn't be learning incantations. The Headmaster had virtually said as much himself, though he was vague enough to leave Harry excited about training with Dumbledore, no matter what the circumstances.

All too soon, the Headmaster was saying farewell, but before he left, he strongly encouraged Harry to take a shower. "I'd suggest brushing your teeth as well, Harry," he said, glancing at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Once, in my youth, I had the insane idea to join the Birmingham/Bristol Broomstick brigade, who were headed to Egypt to hunt down a wild Nundu, and while she was rather larger and more dangerous than you, her breath was tame by comparison..."

Harry had laughed off the comment, but it was true that his mouth felt like he'd had a handful of dragon dung for breakfast. Tempted to _Scourgify_ his own mouth and go back to sleep, it was with some regret that he crawled into the bathroom, going through his morning ritual a little more slowly than normal.

The warm water gave him a new perspective on his day, and he stayed under the luxuriating stream for a long time, thinking about the previous night (mostly because he couldn't bear to think about the information Dumbledore had just dropped on his throbbing head). Fleur had totally surprised him with her all-too-willing attitude, and he'd be too easily overcome by her aura, as well as her more pleasurable ministrations, to put up much of a fight. If they were going to continue to see each other, he couldn't allow himself to slip away from reality so easily. _The alcohol probably had something to do with that_, he thought with no small amount of amusement. _Still, who could blame me now that it's all said and done?_

However, rather than instill some confidence in himself to face his classmates, his thoughts just seemed to make him more reticent to leave the shower. Eventually, Seamus came to investigate his prolonged stay in the showers.

"What in Merlin's name?" he said, waving his hands over his head to dispell some of the steam that had fogged the bathrrom. "You didn't get enough from Fleur last night?" he asked, causing someone behind him to laugh. "Now you're polishing your wand in broad day light? For shame-"

Harry's head smacked dully against the wall in front of him, as the stream of water continued to rush against his bare back. "I'm going to kill you, Seamus," he dead-panned. "Go away," he demanded.

"Or what? You're gonna come out ready for a sword fight?"

Despite himself, Harry couldn't resist a laugh. "You'd know more about it than I would," he joked. "I prefer birds, obviously."

Dean's laughter, as well as Seamus' belligerent, "OY," was drowned out by the squeal from Harry turning off the water. He had always found it intriguing that, despite all the differences between Muggles and Wizards, their showers were almost exactly the same.

"You're gonna pay for that, Potter," he groused half-heartedly. "Not all of us have three schools worth of students to pick from."

"Yeah," Dean commiserated, no less forlorn than his best mate. Harry vaguely recalled that Dean couldn't find a date because he waited to the last minute. Parvati, in particular, had taken great pleasure in turning him down because she was going with Harry. "I tried dancing with a English-speaking girl from Beauxbatons, but she ignored me and went back to talking to her friends. I could handle that," he admitted, no stranger to a witch's distaste, "but I clearly heard her say _your _bloody name right before she started giggling!"

"And all the ones that we _do _have a chance with," Seamus added, "are too caught up on you to bother with!"

"Like who?" Harry muttered, moving from behind a curtain. While his roommates were complaining, he had been getting dressed out of view.

"_Like who?_" Seamus mimicked, causing Harry to give a rather rude gesture in response. "Parvati, Katie, Hermione, uh... I won't even mention, Fleur, 'cause that wasn't 'gonna happen," he said, to Dean's profound agreement, "but there's also a slew of girls _you _don't even know the name of that follow your every move."

"Like that blonde girl from Ravenclaw that's in Ron's sister's year-"

"These people _have names_, you know," Dean informed him, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Whatever," Seamus said, glaring at Dean. "Luna Lovegood then."

Harry distantly recalled the moments after Hermione chewed him out on the night of the Yule Ball. A petite blonde had appeared under the mistletoe to give him a brief peck on the lips. While not entirely unwelcome, given the fact that she was rather cute in Harry's opinion, the time had been a bit suspicious. "Luna, huh," Harry murmured. "I didn't know her name-"

"Wait," Seamus said, leaning in closer. "You didn't kiss her too?"

"He did!" Dean couldn't believe it. "You are either the luckiest bastard I've ever met or... a wizarding Cassanova!"

"Who?"

"She kissed me," Harry said, feeling some obligation to explain himself. "On the night of the Yule Ball." He frowned, shaking his head. "Right after Hermione verbally murdered me, some girl ran up, told me mistletoe was over my head, and gave me a kiss. It was... _odd._"

Dean nodded seriously. "She's a strange one, Luna. I saw her wearing a lion's head for one of Gryffindor's matches last year. Weird, especially since you guys were playing Ravenclaw at the time."

Harry pondered this while he directed his wand to tie his shoes. It had not escaped his notice that he was using magic a lot more freely and easily this year, even for things as simple as dressing himself. He wondered how much that had to do with the tournament, and how much was down to his subconscious desire to be the best wizard in his class. He couldn't deny his improvement in the last year, especially in Mad-Eye Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts course.

"Anyway," Harry said, breaking his own reverie, as he was finally finished getting ready. "I'm going to head down for a bite. Keep the Luna thing to your chest, yeah?"

Seamus saluted Harry as he walked past, and Dean gave him a friendly smile, which turned into a not-so-friendly shoulder bump. "Your luck's gonna run out soon enough," he stated, a mock-angry expression on his face. "Dying in this tournament is 'gonna be the least of your worries when these ladies come for you!"

They all shared a laugh at that; even Seamus, who had been one of the more jealous students when Harry's name came out of the Goblet, was well-aware of Harry's dislike for the competition.

All too quickly, Harry was gliding down the staircase and into the common room. He had been ignoring his classmates hostility for the better part of four years now, but this was the first time he could recall being embarrassed by it all. Sure, Harry had been afraid, annoyed, and angry - and boy, was he _angry _- but this time the rumors circulating the school were ruining what should have been an intimate affair with Fleur, and the fact that everyone knew so quickly set him on edge. Harry bristled, glaring at a few approaching students, but he went to a great effort not to speak to anyone and he swept across the room and out of the tower in a matter of seconds. He took a deep breath at the portrait door, wondering if he should just go back to bed and hide from everyone. In the end, he found himself too hungry not to at least go to breakfast.

The path to the Great Hall was lined with students, and many of them stopped to gawk at the Boy Who Lived as he passed. Surprisingly, Katie gave him a warm smile, before turning to obviously admire Richie Coot's backside, but most of the students were less than conciliatory after the night's events. One seventh year stuck out a leg to trip him, but Harry was wise enough to avoid the boy's trainers and he quietly whispered the incantation for the Stinging Hex, enjoying the reflexive howl from the older boy, who accidentally barged into one of his mates. All three of the boys started rough-housing, saving Harry from any retaliation attempts as they were too busy pushing and shoving each other to stop Harry from leaving.

Unfortunately, the next person he came across was even less likely to allow him passage. Hermione's eyes gleamed quite like the troll they'd come across in first year, and he had no doubt that she'd pose a more difficult threat than Quirrel's dimwitted beast. "Good morning," she said shortly. "I suppose you slept well?"

Her voice was strained, and even the most naive Gryffindor would have seen the fury in her stance; Hermione's hand was in her robe pocket, and Harry could see the bulge of her wand from a few meters away. She was literally shaking, whether from anger or nerves he could not tell. His own voice remained remarkably steady by contrast. "No _bad dreams_, if that's what you're wondering."

She blinked. For some reason, Harry felt like he had just been really harsh on his friend. "I wasn't," she sneered, before visibly trying to push her temper back down. "I'm not talking about _him_," Hermione continued, before she lost her nerve. "You didn't come back to the tower until the morning, and no one knew what happened to you..."

Harry wasn't in the mood to be questioned by anyone, much less in the middle of a crowded hallway. "This isn't the time," he warned, glancing furtively at their surrounding classmates; more than a few students had stopped to watch the brewing argument, impeding students who were headed down to breakfast.

Hermione's lip curled quite like a wolf. She seemed oblivious to the others, as her eyes were solely focused on Harry's. "Quite the contrary, _Harry_; I think this is the _perfect time _to discuss it."

Harry had nothing to say to that, and Hermione was intent on keeping him in the hallway, so he leaned against the nearest wall, trying his best not to lose his temper. Jeers coming from some passing students were encouraging his bad attitude. "What do you _have _to know?" he said, scowling. "Might as well tell the school now," Harry shouted. "They'll know by lunch time anyway!"

Some of the students had the grace to look away, but a few just laughed, watching even more intently.

Hermione hesitated, just barely pushing back the tindrils of fear creeping up her spine. "Where did you go after you left the dining hall last night?"

Harry's scowl slipped, replaced by an expression of shock. "How did you know about that?" Then, almost imperceptibly slowly, his face reverted to one of outrage. "Were you spying on me?"

Hermione, self-righteous and fully aware of it, just gave Harry a look. "Ron and I were worried about you-"

"Ron too!" Harry laughed humorlessly. "You two have no right-"

"I should think we're entitled to know what goes on in our best friend's life!"

Harry recoiled as if struck. "You are entitled to know _what I want you to know_! Nothing more! And if you keep spying on me, I'll stop telling you anything at all!"

"We weren't spying on you, Harry! Someone said they saw you and Fleur on the grounds late last night, but you _weren't _coming back to the castle. As your friends-"

"You two haven't talked to me since the ball!" Harry said, his voice terribly hollow in the cavernous hallway. "How would I know you were even worried about me? I've spent more time away from you guys in the last week than in four years!"

Hermione's anger nearly evaporated. "We're _still_ your friends-"

"Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you get to know everything just because you ask!"

"Why are you avoiding the question?" she said, her bushy hair flying out of the poneytail she had thrown together earlier. "Do you have something to hide from us? From _me_?" Of course, Hermione had to ask again. "Where'd you go last night?"

"I told you I didn't want to discuss it. Not here, and maybe not at all. You need to respect that some secrets are mine to keep."

"Oh, get off your moral high horse! You just can't tell the truth anymore. Not to me, not to Ron... not to anyone!"

"That's not true-"

"Isn't it?" Hermione was standing impossibly close to him. Once again, her lips were just inches from his, but there would be no kiss forthcoming; instead, Hermione shrilly screamed in his face. "You told me you cared about me, Harry! All that tripe about holding my hand and going to _bloody _Madame Puttifoot's, and _then _this!"

"_You _told me I wasn't worth the trouble!"

Her mouth opened reflexively, but she spluttered. "I didn't know you were going to start dating someone else a week later! It just took me a while to work through my emotions-"

"_Work through your emotions_? I've got news for you, Granger, you have the emotional range of a _salad spoon_!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! You keep everything so close to your chest, it's a wonder you haven't exploded by now!"

"Well, Hermione, keep pushing me and _maybe I will!_"

_Now, that, _Harry thought, _was going too far_. He made a move to walk further down the hall, but at the last second, Hermione stepped in front of him, barring the way once more. "Let me go, Hermione," he said, his temper flaring dangerously. "I don't want to do this right now-"

"I don't _care_! Go ahead and explode. Scream and rage and pound on your chest like a _bloody _gorilla if you want, as long as you let me know what's going on in that _thick _head of yours! If you have any respect for me as a person - as a _friend _- you'll tell me what I want to know!"

"I can't always tell you everything, Hermione! There are some things you aren't supposed to know!" His thoughts briefly turned to the prophecy, and he realized with a jolt that Hermione and Ron had no idea he was destined to one day fight Voldemort to the death. Drained of all anger, he realized he wouldn't even be able to _talk _about his impending doom with his friends. His words took on another meaning, one which, unfortunately, Hermione had no way of knowing.

"What can be so horrible you can't tell your best friend in the world about it?"

Harry stopped walking, but he didn't turn to look at Hermione, whose lip was quivering nervously despite her angry shout. "Why won't you just tell me," she said, just seconds away from breaking down completely. "I thought you could tell me everything, Harry. Does our friendship mean so little that you can't even tell me the _truth_ anymore?"

"There are some things you shouldn't _have_ to know," he said vehemently, though his heart wasn't in it. "Please, Hermione," he begged. "Just leave it alone."

"No," she said, wiping her tears just as swiftly as they started falling. "You tell me the truth right now... or I don't want to be your friend anymore."

Harry paused, eyeing his friend with stunned disbelief. Never in a million years did he think Hermione would stoop to risking their friendship over a relationship with a girl. A dark part of him wanted to tell her nothing had happened, or glare at her until she walked away, but he knew he could never lie to her, and it was equally sinful to tell her they were no longer friends. _I love Hermione_, _and definitely not like someone loves their sister,_ Harry thought, admitting it to himself. _But I won't let her treat me this way and get away with it._

Hermione's eyes met his, and something inside of him wouldn't let him turn away. With a whisper, she asked the real question she wanted to know the answer to - the question Harry dreaded being asked more than any other. "Did you sleep with Fleur last night, Harry?"

He opened his mouth to speak but found himself strangled by his own refusal to lie. Ironically, Hermione had been wrong; Harry just couldn't lie to his best friends. The silence hung in the air, and even their audience waited with baited breath, excited to see what the fall out from their argument would be. As it turned out, no words were needed; Hermione fled down the hall toward the dormitory, and even though Harry tried to get her to stop, she was too busy sobbing to even produce a coherent rebuke. Part of him knew that, although he did not explicitly have to tell his friends everything, he had always trusted them to be there for him and to help him solve his problems, and in their absence, he had become a cruel person indeed. Truthfully, it would have been a lot easier to lie.

_It had to be done_, Harry thought. _Doesn't mean I shouldn't feel like a right berk about it_. He turned to walk away, somehow still able to focus enough to head toward his original destination. This time, he found his other best friend blocking the way, even as the other students fled to spread more rumors about Harry, Hermione and Fleur.

"Before you say anything," Harry said, feeling shaky all of a sudden. His forehead was hurting for some reason. "I don't want to fight anymore. I'm sorry."

Ron frowned, though Harry suspected he was quite pleased Harry apologized to him first. "What are you saying sorry to me for? She's the one bawling her eyes out!"

"No," he said, shaking his head and rubbing his scar. "She's right. You two are my best friends, and I shouldn't have to lie. It doesn't mean you're... y'know, entitled to know everything, but you guys have always been there for me when I needed you." He faced his friend and gave him the most serious expression he could offer. "I'm sorry, Ron. I've been a prat this last week and a half. You're my best friend," he said, smiling sadly. "My only friend," he said, keenly feeling Hermione's absence, "I shouldn't have kissed a girl you liked even though things got kind of crazy that night."

Ron initially thought to berate Harry further, but through strength of will he bit his tongue, deciding to try a more tactful approach. _Hermione would be proud_, Ron decided. "They did didn't they?" The boy's shared a smile for the first time in far too long. Ron slapped his friend on the back. He thought back to the pep talk Harry had given him before the Yule Ball and decided it was time for him to return the favor. "Besides, I probably would have tried to kiss her myself, but I think she fancies you, mate. When I was watching her during the ball, she kept turning to look at you."

Harry hadn't noticed, as he had been too busy showing Parvati a good time and making sure Ron didn't wreck Hermione's night. _Did Hermione want me to ask her to the Ball?_ Strangely, the thought hadn't occured to him before.

"Yeah. I was kind of jealous... at least, up until Padma made out with me in the Entrance Hall." Harry laughed, glad that his friend had retained his sense of humor despite the turmoil in their odd little love triangle. "Too bad you had to ruin our lives, eh?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, his smile fading a bit. "You think she'll ever forgive me?"

The redhead thought for a moment, a look of great concentration on his freckled face. Finally, he said, "_Nah_."

Harry chuckled, though the nauseating feeling in his stomach hadn't dissipated with Ron's remark. Suddenly, a sharp pain scorched through his scar, and he lost control of his body, falling hard on one knee. Mindful of the other students in the hall, Harry slid on his rear end until he knew he couldn't be trampled by any running feet. "Something's wrong," Harry said, suffering greatly under the torturous barrage coming from inside his own head. "You need to get Professor Dumbledore-"

The rest of his statement was cut off as he emitted a horrible, high-pitched laugh. "He knows," Harry said, this time in his own, panicked voice, just seconds before his vision went blank.

Fortunately, Ron grabbed Harry before he hit the ground, but the Boy Who Lived was completely out of it and he certainly wouldn't be coming to anytime soon. Most students had gone running at the first sound of trouble, and he hoped that Dumbledore would get wind of the situation soon. Otherwise, his arms were going to be _really_ sore.

"_Bloody hell_," Ron muttered, quite to himself. "Why is it always you, mate?"

Unbeknownst to Ron, or any of the students pushing their way through the hall, a peculiarly-colored beetle decided to flutter to a rest, strangely enough, right on his shoulder.

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Thirteen-<em>


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Ron ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and brought them to a rest on his temple, trying to massage his headache away. He had carried Harry a few hundred meters before someone finally asked him why he wasn't using Levicorpus; too distracted to even be annoyed with himself, he merely nodded and carefully floated his friend onto a hospital bed. Madame Pomfrey had asked him a few questions, but Ron honestly had no answers for her. Other than a basic understanding that Harry's head had been linked to the Dark Lord - a piece of information he went to great lengths to keep from the Healer - Ron didn't know what to make of Harry's sudden collapse. Several hours had passed in a rush and now Ron felt like Voldemort was pounding away inside his own head.

His mother had heard of Harry's unfortunate accident (though Ron doubted she knew the Dark Lord was involved) and she had obligingly taken over the role of doting mother for Harry, who was at this moment covered in hospital garb, a homemade blanket and two more Weasley family quilts. As an unkind result for all of the kindness Mrs. Weasley was showing him, Harry was now certain to be subject to much teasing from the twins when he woke up. This time, rather than a toilet seat, the twins were promising to gift Harry a set of dragonhide condoms as encouragement to get well soon.

"We have no use for them," George (at least, Ron thought it was George) whispered, as they watched while their mother painstakingly placed a wet rag on Harry's vividly red forehead.

"Unfortunately," Fred added, shrugging. "Things have kinda fallen by the wayside with Angelina..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn't have much luck with Alyssa either," George mentioned, nodding sagely. Never quick to cotton on the twin's brand of humor, Ron gave them a dopey look.

"Who is Alyssa?" he wondered.

Ignoring Ron, Fred turned to George. "I thought you said her name was... Amy?"

"Amelie?"

"Andrea?"

... Akita."

"No, Fred, she _acts_ like an Akita. I'm certain her name is Allison."

"I know you're certain, but... _are you sure_? I really thought it was Alyssa..."

"Don't you listen? I just said it was Allison!"

They were talking about Alicia Spinett, who unceremoniously dumped George after he took her to the Yule Ball. George hadn't been entirely honest when he told the girl he wasn't bothered by the break up, though he did have feelings for another Gryffindor chaser instead. "Anyway, she probably likes you better," Fred said, somehow still talking about Angelina. Ron tried to ignore their headache-inducing antics in favor of resting his against a cool silver bedpost, which did bring him some measure of relief from his annoying brothers.

"_Probably_," George agreed. Ron knew that George had wanted to take Angelina to the ball, but Fred took advantage of his brother's fear in order to ask the girl first; this, of course, was done purely to irritate George into confessing he had feelings for 'Angie'.

Changing gears, Fred returned to their previous discussion concerning contraceptive use in adoloscents. "In any case, Harry could do with a Shield charm for his... _little _Harry. Fleur's bound to rape him again-"

"It's not rape if he likes it," Fred argued. "Besides, they don't have underage laws where she comes from."

"Really?" Ron asked, his mouth falling open in shock.

"Don't be so gullible, Ron." Fred said, closing his brother's jaw with both hands. "You're enough of a dunderhead as is."

"Oy, lay off my brother, brother," George defended. "His friend just got raped twice in two days - once by a Dark Lord!" All three of the boys grimaced at that.

"He's my friend too." Fred glanced at Ron, whose hair had grown rather lengthy as of late. "And you're both my brothers, no matter how much Ron looks like Aunt Muriel."

Ron tried to punch him in the chest but Fred laughed and side-stepped his brother. George noticed an opening and smacked Ron in the back of his head, and when the younger boy turned to retaliate, his fist accidentally met Fred's stomach. Ron's roar of triumph was well earned; Fred keeled over, admitting defeat easily, though he was still laughing about it. "You two stop that this instant," the Weasley matron said, having finished torturing Harry while he was asleep.

"Sorry, mum," George and Fred sang.

"No, you're not," she said, paying them very little attention. Of course, Ron had realized over the years that 'very little attention' did not mean she wasn't listening. His mother was stirring a type of soup (at least, Ron thought it was soup) that smelled of elderberries. Even Ron, who was always starving, wanted no part of the syrupy black liquid his mother had produced.

"What is that?" Ron asked. "It looks horrid."

"It's not _horrid_," she snapped, mimicking Ron. "This is for Harry. It will help him regain his strength when he wakes up," she said enthusiastically, launching into a Hermionesque diatribe about the medical uses of ripe elderberries. George, behind his mother's back, leaned in to get closer to Ron.

"Yeah," he whispered, "It will give him the strength to run straight to the bathroom." Ron snickered quietly, mindful of his mother's presence. "Bet you a galleon Harry won't turn her down though."

"I don't have a galleon, and you're probably right anyway," Ron muttered. "He wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."

"As if she has any of those," Fred offered, having been eavesdropping on the conversation. "She's a soulless shell of herself now, poor Mum," he said, just loud enough for his mother to hear.

"Oh, you two! _Get out_," she snarled, chasing them with the dripping spoon. "You have no business being here if you're going to cause calamity everytime you open your mouth!"

Fred and George began arguing with their mother, trying to persuade her that they were too concerned about Harry to leave, when the infirmary door opened and Hermione timidly stepped into view. "We'll just be going then," Fred announced, slipping past Ron, who had a worried look on his face.

"Do come see us before you leave, mother," George said, flouncing over to the door. He paused briefly beside Hermione, whose eyes were focused on the bed nearest Mrs. Weasley. "Hermione! Smashing to see you!"

"Yeah," she muttered, not really up for any banter, especially with one or both of the twins. "_Smashing_."

The boys glanced at each other and seemed to come to an agreement. "Tata," they chorused, sweeping out the door before anyone could stop them. Their laughter trailed down the hall and the infirmary grew conspicuously silent in the aftermath. Mrs. Weasley broke the ice by crossing the room to give Hermione a hug, which went some way toward making the young Gryffindor girl feel better.

"How are you, dear?" Despite, Hermione's best attempts to wipe her face, some residual tear tracks were still there, as well as a bit of makeup that had congealed in a few spots. "Oh, I'm sure Harry will be fine; no reason to worry your pretty head! He'll be spry as a Doxy in days!"

"It's just..." Hermione couldn't quite form a reply, so she settled for sniffling and hugging the nurturing older woman a bit tighter. "It's just that it came as such a surprise! I didn't know that it was so bad for him, and... we were just fighting all week, and I was so pushy when I shouldn't have been and-"

Her words turned into sobs, her tears soaking Molly's sweater, but the Weasley matriarch merely whispered nice things to comfort Hermione, allowing her time to come to her senses. "You know Harry would never hate you, Hermione! Or anyone else for that matter!"

"But I," she gasped, trying to catch her breath, "embarrassed him in front of the whole school! I was such an idiot!"

"Well, why on Earth would you do that?"

Hermione was tempted to reveal the reasons behind her issues with the Boy Who Lived, but at the last possible second, she glanced up to see Ron's face. He was pensively watching the two of them have their exchange, and to this point, he hadn't said anything to hurt, or to help, matters. He just seemed very tired. Hermione's instantly knew better than to further exacerbate the problems in each other's relationship, and what's more, she decided to cross the room and give Ron a warm hug. Ron returned her awkward smile; her relationship with Harry was on the rocks, but she realized belatedly that she hadn't been speaking to her other best friend either.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," she told Ron, her eyes on Harry. "For him. For you." She raised her eyes to Ron, who was watching her with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"You really care about him, don't you?" he whispered. Fortunately, his mother had gone to Madame Pomfrey's office to go get her wand and dry the tears off her clothes. Hermione's face went white, but she didn't say anything. "When he wakes up, you should tell him."

"What about you?" she said courageously, watching for Ron's reaction.

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be fine. He needs you more than I do."

She pondered his comment so long that Mrs. Weasley had come back by the time she was ready to say something. Unwilling to discuss the situation in front of Ron's mom, however, Hermione decided to keep quiet. She squeezed Ron's hand once and pulled a rather thick tome from her giant bag of books, sitting on a neighboring bed to Harry's and placing the book open on her lap. She read in silence for some time, and Ron was finding himself too sleepy to talk, so he drifted off into an uneasy, restless slumber. A day dream about Katie Bell kissing him from a raunchy position on his Cleansweep Seven was interrupted briefly by Hermione warning him to stop breathing so loudly. Ron opened one eye long enough to see his bookworm friend had turned back to reading and blew a rather loud raspberry that his mother scolded him for.

Eventually, other Weasleys came to see Harry. A bedraggled Errol brought a card from Charlie, who had returned to the Dragon Preserve after the First Task, and Percy was nowhere to be found, but everyone else made an appearance. First, Mr. Weasley dropped in for a bit; Ron was particularly happy about his father's arrival as Arthur brought Chinese food from somewhere north of London. After a few hours of casual catching up, Mr. Weasley suggested that he and Molly get some rest so that she could take care of Harry when he actually was awake. She didn't want to leave, of course, citing many reasons that Harry would need her while he was asleep, but Hermione persuaded her otherwise, pointing toward Madame Pomfrey's excellent care as proof that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be needed. A bit miffed but otherwise compliant, Mrs. Weasley left without much fanfare.

Ginny's appearance came soon after her parents left. She wasn't too bothered by Harry's "nap" and expected him to recover "as soon as Fleur gets her arse in here to see him". Hermione didn't appreciate the insinuation that Fleur could make Harry feel better when she couldn't, but then again, she would have to come to terms with Harry and Fleur's relationship on her own or risk losing her friendship with the Boy Who Lived. Ginny was annoyed that she missed her mother and seemed quite determined to write Molly a Howler at the next available opportunity.

They were surprised when Ron and Ginny's oldest brother arrived, seemingly out of the blue. Bill, who was not normally present for such occasions, seemed particularly troubled when Ron and Hermione took turns explaining Harry's rather volatile situation to him. However, when the long-haired man was pressed by Hermione to reveal his thoughts on the matter, he deftly avoided answering her question. Shortly after arriving, Bill told them he had to see the Headmaster, most likely to put some distance between himself and Hermione, who was quite suspicious about everything. Of course, that all went out the window when she heard a sharp intake of breath. "You're awake!"

Harry smiled. Fawkes could have been singing for all he knew because the feeling of having his friends looking at him with happiness in their eyes was well worth whatever havoc Voldemort had wreaked on his head. "Probably not for long," Harry warned, a wave of nausea striking him as soon as he sat in an upright position. "My head feels like shite-"

"Watch your tongue, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, carrying a chart in one hand and her wand in the other. "No doubt your head is going to be hurting for a while yet."

"I'm going to go tell everyone you're okay!" Ginny announced. "You... _are_ okay, right?" He nodded an affirmation while drinking a glass of water that was long overdue, so she smiled briefly and took her leave. For his part, Harry wasn't sure leaving him alone with Ron and Hermione at this juncture was the best idea, but knowing Ginny, she probably set it up for that very reason.

Harry hadn't really had time to think about his situation - except for one thing. He shifted back and forth, seemingly nervous as the Healer approached. "Merlin," he muttered, unable to move much because the covers were too tight around him. He finally removed his arms from the sheets, but he was still trying to wriggle free when Poppy's temper reached a boil.

"Potter, you need to stop moving so I can check you," Pomfrey said, waving her wand in a complicated pattern above his head. Harry screwed up his face and told her discretely what his problem was. "No, your bum itching is not an acceptable reason to move."

The three students laughed, though Harry's was cut off by a yelp as the healer poked him sharply with her wand. He groused silently, well aware of Ron and Hermione's quiet giggles. When she was finished, Healer Pomfrey straightened herself and pronounced him, "Quite healthy, despite all the attempts to kill yourself."

"Does that mean I can go?"

"No, you can not _go_," she said, silencing him with a glare. "Drink this." She forced him to take a liberal dose of a restorative draught she promised would take the edge off of his self-proclaimed pounding headache. "You still need to stay overnight for observation. We don't want you to faint again; no matter how stressed you may have been at that moment, it could have been triggered by a refusal to address your mental strain, and it's a long road to recovery once you've truly had a mental break. You could eventually develop Schizophrenia, split personalities or even suffer delusions of grandeur." A small smile took the place of the glare Harry was more accustomed to. "I'm sure Professor Snape would say you've already been afflicted with the last, but I digress..."

Harry did not look pleased that she had sentenced him to another night in the infirmary (or that she had called him delusional), but he tried not to argue too much for fear of Pomfrey finding other methods to torture him. He was rather sleepy anyway, but he still asked her if his friends could stay. Fortunately, she granted his request, though she promised to send Ron away if he "acts like those horrible brothers of his."

Once she had left them alone, Ron turned the conversation to Harry's collapse in the hallway. "What happened, mate? One minute you were right there with me, the next you when barmy as Trelawney and started babbling something about 'He knows'. Did you have another... _thing_ about Voldemort?"

Harry's face looked miserable. A slew of emotions flickered across his visage in rapid succession. His friends knew nothing of the prophecy, so how was he supposed to tell them that Voldemort entered his brain and found out the extent of it? For that matter, how could he possibly explain that he would one day kill, or be killed by, the darkest wizard of their time? Fortunately, he could tell them a part of the truth without going into too many details because even Harry knew he was a piss poor liar.

His friends listened closely as Harry recounted his story of how Voldemort had determined that Privet Drive was Harry's place of residence in the summer. The monster of a man couldn't destroy it himself because he was still confined to a childlike body, but he was planning to unleash hell on Surrey as soon as he was on his feet again. "We have to tell the Headmaster," he said. He was surprised when Ron offered to go get Dumbledore immediately; noticing that it would be just he and Hermione by themselves during the interval, Harry wasn't sure Ron's swift exit was a good idea. Harry found that Hermione's face reflected a similar fear, though Ron seemed oblivious to their inner struggles.

"Nah," Ron said, shrugging off his concern. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to get him when you woke up. It seemed pretty important," he admitted. "No time like the present."

He patted Hermione briefly on the arm and made his way to the door. At the last possible moment, he turned back to his friends and said, "Play nice while I'm gone. Okay?"

He didn't wait to hear an answer, sliding past the heavy door, which echoed resoundingly as it closed. Harry looked at the windows, the beds, the linoleum floor and even a poster of female internal organs, but somehow, he found it difficult to look at his best friend. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to find Harry's face all too interesting, and tried to catch his eye to no avail. Eventually, Hermione grew frustrated with their game and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said, just as he muttered the same thing. "No," she said, waving him off with her hands before twisting them nervously in her lap. Her book had been forgotten, but it was still sitting on her thighs, rocking back and forth as she worked herself into a frenzy. "I don't want to argue with you, Harry," she said, giving him pause. "Just let me apologize."

Harry, who didn't know what to say to begin with, gave Hermione free reign to speak her mind, fully aware that she'd probably still be mad at him. He doubted she'd be loud enough to test Pomfrey's patience (no pun intended) but he supposed she could always curse him with a whisper. The girl in question looked like she regretted putting herself on the spot, though she fought through her nerves soon enough.

"Before the Yule Ball," she started, finding it easier to face the wall rather than her friend, "I was so excited just to recognized by a popular boy that I... well, I started thinking illogically. I jumped at the chance to go with Viktor, even though I knew the girl he originally invited had turned him down. Rather than find another one of his classmates, he asked the only girl he'd met from Hogwarts, which just so happened to be me - the Queen of the library." She shakily took the big book off of her lap and laid it carefully into her book bag, looking a bit upset with herself. "It's just that everyone thinks of me as this... _swot_ who could never have a proper boyfriend because she's too busy doing his homework!"

Hermione paused, calming herself before she drew the notice of Harry's Healer. The boy in the bed felt bad for her and was moved enough by her story to say so, but she had asked him to let her apologize and he hadn't heard her say sorry yet, so he kept his mouth shut. He routinely kept his face blank, unwilling to provoke her anger or hinder her.

"Despite knowing all of that, I was too wrapped up in the ball to recognize I was distancing myself from you two by going with someone you didn't know. It was no time before you were turned down by Cho, and I started to think that maybe you'd ask me instead. I was sure you'd only be asking as a friend," she admitted, "but I still would have much rather attended the ball with you, my best friend, than with _Krummy Vickie_." She said it in a nearly perfect impression of Ron, and Harry couldn't help but smile. "But it was too late," she shrugged, finally looking at her friend helplessly.

Harry didn't look upset at her, which was a good start. "For what it's worth, Parvati is one of the last people I would have ever asked to the ball, no matter how pretty she is, but I didn't have a partner and I wasn't about to be embarrassed in front of the school if I could help it. We had an okay time, I suppose," he lied, knowing he'd had a grand time at the ball, "but it turns out we're just slightly more compatible than Ron and," he wracked his mind for a suitable analogy. "_Lavender_." He shuddered, as if sickened by the very thought.

Hermione laughed. "That would never work!" Harry quite agreed, but all too soon, they realized that they were supposed to be having a serious discussion, and they knew that Ron would probably be back soon. "But the tragic thing was... I never thought you... or Ron... liked me enough to be your date, and I figured none of the other boys worth going with would get around to it, so I accepted Viktor's invitation. Then, 'lo and behold, everybody in Gryffindor started asking!"

Harry shared her exasperated smile. "I can relate to that! I didn't realize any girls liked me until I had a date, and then they started throwing themselves at me left and right! Like Katie." He shook his head; despite the bit of experience he'd learned in the last few weeks, Harry still had no idea how women's minds worked. He cracked a joke, hoping to keep Hermione's smile going for a while. "As if I had any idea how to be suave, or dance, or even carry on a conversation with a girl that isn't you!"

She blushed, and Harry began to feel like maybe all hope wasn't lost for their relationship. He leaned across the bed with a grimace, reach out to Hermione, who dropped from the neighboring bed and crossed the distance, grasping his hand a lot more quickly than he expected. "You're my best friend," Harry told her, his thumb unconsciously rubbing circles on her left hand. "I should have asked you before Viktor."

"Why didn't you?" she blurted. Immediately her blush increased, her neck turning slightly pink. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that if you don't want to..."

"Cho, I guess..." he said, shrugging. "I think I was just pining for her because I was jealous of Cedric." Whatever Hermione had expected him to say, that was not it, and she told him so. Laughing, he explained his envy of the Hufflepuff prefect. "Everyone at Hogwarts seems to like him, except for maybe the Slytherins, and at least they don't go out of their way to make his day worse. I don't really dislike Cedric - in fact, he's been really nice to me personally - but I wanted to do something to be... _cool_, as weird as that sounds."

"It's not weird, Harry," she murmured, looking thoughtful. "It actually makes a lot sense in retrospect. I do hope you know you weren't very cool when you started kissing every girl in the school."

"Well aware," he dead-panned. "Anyway, I just wanted people to be jealous of me for a change! Besides Ron, I suppose..." He tried not to smile too broadly when Hermione giggled at that. "So, I picked a flashy girl to go to the ball, learned how to dance, set up a few... _nighttime festivities_, and generally became the person Cormac wishes he could be."

They both laughed, sharing a relaxing moment together. "So, are you going to always be this person, or was that a one-night affair?"

Harry couldn't quite tell if she was talking about the night of the Yule Ball or if she was referring to Fleur, but she wanted an answer either way. "I don't think I'll always be like that, but it wouldn't hurt to let it all hang out every once in a while." He smiled at his friend, who gradually returned it, not entirely pleased by his answer. "I'll try not to hurt my best friend's feelings anymore, if that's what you're worried about."

"So... where do we go from here?" Hermione wondered aloud. She realized that they were still touching, but she was in no rush to mention it; in truth, the emotional young girl was unwilling to lose the contact right away and she didn't trust herself not to ruin their moment with her typically no-nonsense words. Flirting may have been second nature to girls like Lavender or Katie, but Hermione usually considered herself above such behavior, particularly with someone else's boyfriend. She was dreadfully unprepared for the changes that had come over her best friend, who just a few months ago would have balked at the idea of talking to Fleur, much less bedding her with seemingly reckless abandon.

Just the thought was enough to make her blush. Of course, Harry only made her embarrassment worse everytime he spoke. "It depends," he said, smirking.

"On?"

Harry was on the verge of saying something, but just then, the infirmary door screeched, sliding open slowly. Hermione dropped his hand but remained standing rather close to him, that is, until she saw who was coming in.

"Harry!"

Fleur's lips parted to show pearly white teeth and Harry couldn't resist a beaming smile back. Harry and Hermione both noticed the blonde was wearing tight black pants and a thin, very revealing tank top, though Harry was certainly more enthusiastic about Fleur's choice of clothing. Hermione watched the other girl with envy staining her pale face; she felt Harry sit up a little straighter in bed beside her and just barely supressed the urge to whip out her wand. Of course Fleur would appear at the very moment Hermione had Harry all to herself.

"I came as soon as I found out," she said, ignoring Hermione in favor of holding his hand; Harry inwardly winced, remembering that Hermione had just been holding the same hand. "They say that you fainted, but I know you better than that! What happened? Are you alright-"

"I'm fine," Harry told her, laughing. "Thanks for coming to see me," he added, more than a bit touched that she had come; regardless of their late rendevous the night before, he didn't think Fleur would bother to check on him at all. Apparently, their relationship was a lot stronger than he initially believed.

"As if I'd stay away?" She wrinkled her nose at the thought. "A student from your year told our class that you fainted in the hall, and I was running from the class before Madame Arnaud could stop me! Did you think I would leave you in the infirmary alone?" she questioned, not at all expecting answers from the tongue-tied boy. This was mostly because she leaned down, right beside Hermione, and kissed Harry like his life depended on it. Rigidly, Hermione took a step away from the bed, putting some distance between herself and the impromptu makeout session. "_Now_," Fleur said, after breaking off the long kiss, "What really happened?" Her tone made it plain that Harry was not to lie, a fact that, unfortunately, wasn't lost on Hermione, who was seething from her spot on a neighboring bed.

Harry spared his friend a brief glance, unsure if Hermione would continue to take Ron's advice and 'play nicely' now that Fleur was here. "Oh, you know. The usual. Dark wizards doing their best to make my life difficult." Harry chose to take another long drink of water, stalling for time. How was he supposed to explain to Fleur that the Dark Lord could potentially possess him at anytime? He didn't think anyone in their right mind would react well to the news that their significant other might have Voldemort in their brain. Fleur had shown herself capable of keeping his secrets so far, but if he wasn't going to tell Hermione and Ron about the prophecy, he certainly wasn't going to blab it all to his new Veela girlfriend.

Her blue eyes narrowed as Harry recounted the same story he told Ron and Hermione earlier, again leaving out the importance of Fleur in the developing drama. He resolved to let her know at the first opportunity that it had been their intimate moment that quite literally changed his life but, after a second glance at Hermione, he decided those words were better left unsaid for now. He didn't like keeping things from his friends, but he didn't see any other alternative at the moment.

Fleur's thought it was his right to choose where he lived and who he lived with, no matter what danger the Headmaster thought he could potentially be in. She did eventually concede that Harry shouldn't go anywhere near Privet Drive for now, but she didn't like how quickly Harry was being forced from his 'ancestral home'. Harry hid a smile and Hermione had a right fit of giggles at that turn of phrase, but after he explained that he'd rather not live with the Dursleys to begin with, both girls settled down a bit. Harry appreciated Fleur being concerned with how his own personal well-being and relationships would be effected, and he was glad she didn't want to immediately discuss the Death Eaters who had attacked at the Quidditch World Cup or Voldemort's probable return. His head was buzzing from the draught Pomfrey gave him as well as Fleur's proximity, and he didn't feel like discussing anything more complex than the afternoon's lunch offerings and possibly the brand of perfume Fleur was wearing.

As the clock ticked on, Hermione and Fleur became slightly less frosty toward each other, though it was still painfully obvious to the bespectacled boy that they were never going to be friends. There was no hope for the three of them getting along absolutely amicably, but it was encouraging that he could still be alone with the two girls without having to deflect any dangerous spells.

Harry knew very well that Hermione had feelings for him, but he honestly felt like that ship had sailed as soon as he slept with Fleur. He'd unintentionally wrecked their chances at a romantic relationship, at least for the time being, but he didn't think that was a bad thing. Hermione had already been less demanding and combative than before, and she had even offered to escort Fleur around the library if the French girl ever needed to find something for the next two tasks. She didn't make any move to overtly insult Fleur and Harry could see her visibly biting her tongue whenever the blonde said something Hermione deemed unnecessarily racy. Fleur, for her part, spoke mostly to Harry.

Harry eventually relaxed enough to lean his head back into the pillow and close his eyes. The transition from never-been-kissed to French kissing a Veela had been exhilerating, enlightening, and altogether exciting, as each moment with her kept him on his toes. In fact, the last two weeks had been more fun than the first fourteen years of his life. He realized he may not have been his normal self around Fleur the same way he could be with Hermione and Ron, but he knew acting in his customary fashion wouldn't have impressed Fleur one bit. He just hoped that he never had to choose between making Fleur happy and keeping himself content, because at this point, he wasn't sure which option he'd choose.

With her fingers trailing through his hair, and the beautiful girl gazing into his eyes, he'd probably take her side.

"When you're feeling better would you like to... _eat with Papa _again?" Fleur asked, smiling pleasantly. The intense look in her eyes suggested that while they might consume something, her father probably wouldn't be there to see it, and it probably wouldn't be food. His stomach turned slightly at the thought of more Absinthe-fueled hangovers, but he couldn't resist sharing her smile and nodding fervently. Feeling better already, Harry thought. He tried to ignore the fact that he could fall asleep at any minute.

Hermione's eyes never left her book, though Harry could see her mouth quirk downwards on one side. Inwardly, he shrugged; he wasn't going to live his life worrying about Hermione's disdain for his relationship with Fleur.

"Definitely," Harry enthused, and Fleur pecked him on the cheek in response. "I can't wait to get out of here-"

All eyes turned to the doorway as Ron entered, followed immediately by Dumbledore and McGonagall. A moment passed with Harry smiling plainly at his two favorite professors, but the happy expression was washed from his face as Snape and, surprisingly, Bill Weasley joined them.

"Good afternoon, sir," Harry said cheerily, greeting the Headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes were conspicuously clear of emotion. "Good _evening_, Mr. Potter. It is... good to see you yourself again."

Harry's stomach churned nervously as the Professors gathered around him, with Dumbledore at the front and Snape and McGonagall on either side. Bill waved his wand and the bed moved away from the wall just slightly; Hermione leapt to her feet.

"What are you doing?" she snarled, just barely restraining herself from drawing her wand. "Harry is sick-"

Madame Pomfrey came running from office at the first sign of trouble. "Headmaster?" Noting the man's strangely stoic behavior, Poppy turned to Minerva for guidance; she frowned as the much older woman matched Dumbledore's stance.

"Stand aside, Madame," the typically kind Deputy Headmistress said, both of her brown eyes focused on Harry, who was watching Dumbledore with trepidation.

"What's going on, Professor?"

The only man Voldemort ever feared looked away at Harry, who was slouching in a hospital bed. All four of the adults had their wands trained on him even though he'd yet to do anything besides smile awkwardly. "Am I in trouble for something?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. He rather hoped Dumbledore would have enough sense not to mention the prophecy or anything to do with Voldemort.

Surprisingly, it was Bill who spoke. He was standing behind the bed, and he leaned over to place a hand on the back of Harry's head. The Boy Who Lived recoiled, though he only moved just out of reach, confused as to why Bill was even here. "I hate to do this to you, Harry," he said, a look of remorse on his face, "but you may be a danger to others... and to yourself."

Bill deferred to the Headmaster as Snape continued to look like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Harry felt some measure of relief that Snape hadn't gotten involved; he was sure he could produce some Accidental Magic if Snape started talking. His relief was short-lived, however, when Dumbledore also leaned over the bed.

Harry's heart beat escalated as Dumbledore refused to look at him.

"What's going on? Professor?" He looked at McGonagall, who was on the verge of silent tears. Dumbledore's concentration fell briefly, and he met Harry's eyes tentatively.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

A swell of emotion later, before the Boy Who Lived could think, his scar erupted with pain, ten times worse than earlier in the day. His arms and limbs flailed uncontrollably, and he clenched his teeth to keep from screaming. He heard McGonagall encouraging him to fight the sensation, and he could just make out four wands pointed at him through his delirium, but there was little he could do to protect himself. He curled into the fetal possession and prayed for the pain to go away, but it was to no avail; his mouth opened of its own accord, and he started laughing hysterically as his sheets flew from the bed and began swirling around him.

"_Hello, Headmaster_," Harry said, pronouncing each word in perfect Parseltongue.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore croaked. He cast the stunning spell and Harry fell back to the bed with a grimace, his eyes turning back from red to white a second before they rolled into his head. Dumbledore tucked his beard into his robes but otherwise stayed silent, glancing at the other professors before nodding sadly.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that?" Ron shouted. As Bill and Snape began levitating Harry from the bed, all three of the students stood and began berating the adults. "Where are you going with him?" Ron said, stepping in front of Snape.

"You can't just take him!" Fleur screeched, trying to push Bill away from him. "Tell me what you're doing!"

"Calm down," he soothed, a soft smile on his face, but it was too late; the French beauty cast a Piercing Curse her father had taught her and Bill just barely deflected the well-aimed strike into a potted plant. The room shook as McGonagall swept her wand once around her head, and Fleur and Bill both hit the ground with muttered curses. No one else moved as Fleur looked up from the linoleum. Her face was cut slightly in one spot, low on her right cheek, and a small rivulet of blood fell, staining the gleaming white floor.

She stood, grabbing her wand from where it had fallen and using it to soundlessly blow the dust from her clothes. She refused to say sorry to the wizard she had tried to curse, who looked astounded that a teenager had nearly impaled him in an infirmary. She knew she was outmanned by the Professors, but she wasn't willing to let Harry leave without a fight. If she didn't get answers, they weren't taking him, simple as that.

However, the Headmaster must have read her mind, as he smiled at her determined expression. "Come with us, Ms. Delacour," he said, beckoning her forward with one hand. "You may be of use..."

* * *

><p><em>-end of Chapter Fourteen-<em>


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Harry blearily opened his eyes. Immediately, he wished he was still asleep.

Sunlight filtered through the closest window and he instinctively put an arm over his eyes; this action cleared his vision and Harry drew a sharp intake of breath as he found himself surrounded. Snape had a customary cold sneer on his face, and he glared at the last of the Potters. Bill Weasley, a surprise guest, twirled his wand with ease, half of his attention on Harry and the remainder on someone in the shadows. Harry's Head of House was present, which usually meant he was in trouble or under attack, and she was looking at him with concern, so it had to be the latter. His glasses were still on, thankfully, but he was wearing a hospital gown and, strikingly, they were all gathered in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes chirped once from up above, but this time, unlike the countless others, Harry did not feel better about his situation.

The Headmaster was seated at his desk as if nothing had happened, though he peered at Harry seriously when the boy began stretching, the muscles in his back sore from the uncomfortable position he had slept in. Wait. Was I just asleep? Harry asked himself, suddenly unsure of the circumstances of his arrival. He had assumed himself recovered enough to be getting on with things, but his very presence in the Headmaster's office put an end to that line of thinking.

"What happened?" Harry choked, beginning to remember some of the events that had transpired. He massaged his temples before running a finger over his surprisingly bloody scar. He stared at his fingers, stained red with his own blood, in wonder; while Harry's scar itched regularly and hurt occasionally, nothing had ever caused it to pour blood or to send him into uncontrollable spasms.

"Let me guess... _you can't remember a thing_?" The Potion's master ignored Harry's stunned look to complain to Dumbledore. "Surely the boy is lying, Headmaster; no matter the strain he was under during the attack, he still would have been conscious for the entire experience. The Dark Lord would have made it so..."

Harry knew Snape wouldn't believe him even if he had concrete evidence to the contrary, so he couldn't say he was surprised by his Professor's reaction. The older man stepped forward swiftly and put his long nose far too close to Harry's face; the Boy Who Lived instantly felt a torrent of emotion rip through his sternum, and his distaste for Snape suddenly bordered on outright hatred. "Tell us _everything_, Potter-"

"I remember _pain_, Professor," Harry snapped, that same foreign emotion clouding all rational thought. "Voldemort," he said, causing Snape to hiss, "tried to do something to my scar, and my entire body seized up like... a manikin in a department store window! I started trying to swing my arms, kicking my legs - _anything to get control_ - and for a long time I felt like every nerve in my body was on fire," Harry rambled, before trailing off, watching his professors' reactions. He could see Voldemort's red, reptilian eyes gleaming when he closed his own eyes to try and get his breathing under control. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice his sudden discomfort.

"He tried to _possess_ you, Harry; there was a very little else you could have done." Bill intoned. "We don't know why he chose that moment to strike, but we do know how. You-Know-Who obviously has a connection to you with that curse scar, and it creates... a _channel_, I suppose," he said, sounding uncertain for the first time. "He would be able to launch an attack, but he'd be considerably weakened for his efforts, especially if he is still without a body as we suspect." The knowledgeable man launched into a diatribe about Egyptian curses, particularly the forms of mind control used by dark wizards in ancient times, but Harry was too frustrated to listen properly. His annoyance peaked very quickly, and just when Bill was winding down, Harry finally snapped.

"Well, that's just _fantastic_, Bill! I really appreciate you coming all this way to give us your bloody expertise, but I am _not_ someone's slave, and we _aren't_ living in Egypt!" Harry's voice rose sharply, and the sound echoed in the small room. "I don't care why, or how, I just want him out of my head! So, if you don't know how to accomplish that then just _mind your own damned business_!"

"Potter!" McGonagall gasped in surprise. "Hold your tongue!"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but that goes for _you too_!"

The Deputy Headmistress' shocked gasp preceded her sudden silence, but Harry could see it was taking all of her willpower to prevent herself from whispering the incantation to turn him into an earwig, a feat he was sure she could produce with barely a flick of her wand. Harry was tired of being given the run around by his elders; this time, the boy wanted answers, and he resolved not to stop throwing a tantrum until he got them!

Bill was taken aback by Harry's behavior, but he handled himself with aplomb, seemingly prepared for such an outburst. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I just wanted you to know what you were up against." He sounded vaguely apologetic, and Harry's temper receded a bit, his inner turmoil not quite as evident on his young face. "You-Know-Who's everyday emotions will affect you, and when he's angry enough, you'll feel it like you're the one hacked off." Bill snickered, smiling at someone in the darkness. "Until you learn how to deal with this you're going to be one _angry _teenager."

Harry glared at the older wizard. _I'll show you an angry teenager_, he thought, shivering with fury. _Then we'll see how sorry you are._

"We're not sure what is giving Voldemort this power of you yet, but... well, the Headmaster-"

Harry was about to open his mouth again to protest, as he had some rather vile things to say regarding Bill's idiocy, but before he could, someone else spoke out of turn. "Hello, Harry," she said, causing Bill to quickly fall silent.

His hair stood on end as he recognized the increasingly familiar voice coming from the dark corner of the room. Fleur slipped out of the shadows, revealing herself for the first time and gracing him with a soft smile. "Welcome back to _ze_ land of the living," she said, passing the redhead, who looked stunned - whether by her words, her beauty, or his own jealousy, Harry couldn't quite tell, but he ignored Bill to spare Fleur a shallow attempt at a smile.

"Relax. Take deep breaths," she soothed him, coming to stand beside him in solidarity. With her lips so close to his ear, he couldn't resist a brief shudder of contentment. Dumbledore was smiling a bit too broadly, apparently eating up Harry's embarrassment as well as Bill's burgeoning envy. For her part, Fleur was oblivious to all but Harry, and unaware of the Headmaster's amusement. "I'm here for you. We can beat this together. Remember that we're all trying to help you, and if you'll let the Professors explain, they will tell you what you... what _we _need to do..."

For a long time, Harry quietly considered his admittedly limited options. A part of him wanted to destroy every object in the Headmaster's office, and one or two of the individuals in it, but somehow, perhaps due to Fleur's presence, he calmed the urge to lash out. "Okay," Harry said, forcing himself to be calm, although he found it astoundingly difficult. He suddenly recalled being afraid of the way Fleur would react to the Dark Lord picking his brain, and he realized with a jolt that she had completely exceeded any expectations he had for her; not only was she here, acting as a calming presence, she had been there in the hospital wing and she was offering to help him through his ordeal in the future. He immediately felt bad for making a spectacle of himself, particularly with his Head of House, and he begged forgiveness from the others. "I'm sorry for snapping on everyone-"

"Nonsense, Potter," McGonagall said, sitting carefully in the chair closest to Dumbledore's desk. Harry expected her to be angry with him, perhaps even assinging a warranted detention, but instead she gave him a rare smile. "You have done admirably well so far. It is no small feat to throw off a Legilimens attack from one of the most powerful wizards of our time, especially a prolonged battle such as yours! As you now know, the threat is constant and your enemy is never idle; it is a wonder you haven't been to the infirmary already!"

"It is true, Harry," Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time, "that a lesser man would have succumbed to Tom Riddle's influence. It is your heart, rather than the defenses of your mind, that keep, and will continue to keep, Voldemort at bay. If you are to have any hope of defeating him, it is your capacity for love that will bear you through to victory, not your strength in war. However," Dumbledore said, looking at Snape uncertainly, "it has come time for you to rise to the occasion much earlier than I ever would have imagined. In short, you will need to safeguard your mind or you will never truly be free from Voldemort."

Harry was reminded of Ginny, who spent vast periods of her first year at Hogwarts being possessed by Voldemort without her knowledge. _Could that happen to me?_

"It is vastly difficult, time consuming and the principles themselves require the utmost reflection before you can even begin to defend yourself. "

"What," Harry began, interrupting the Professor, "like a wall between Voldemort and my brain?"

Snape's lip twitched, but he answered the question nonetheless. "No, you _foolish _boy. The Dark Lord would rip apart any defense you could project in a matter of moments, and the energy and willpower to sustain those _poorly _constructed walls would drain you and leave you in much the same position you already occupy." His sharp tone only increased in volume as he carried on, building up a head of steam not unlike the Hogwarts Express. "Instead, you must dissuade the Dark Lord that you are even capable of a defense; he must believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything he sees within your mind is the truth. It is vital that you protect your secrets."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," Harry said, the faintest hint of annoyance in his words, "_how_ do I do that?"

"Mind your cheek, Potter, and you will soon be _informed,_" Snape growled, glancing at Dumbledore. The Headmaster merely continued to smile levelly, unconcerned with Harry's petulant attitude. The Potions' master was silent for a few moments as Harry again tried to reign in his temper. "Occlumency," Snape said abruptly. "The ability to occlude the mind, to permanently hide your thoughts from any outside influence. You must become a wizard capable of complete emotional and mental control - something which has _eluded you _thus far, but is certainly attainable if you were to apply yourself diligently. Only a trained Occlumens will have a chance of surviving a Legilimens' attack, and... _trained _you will be." His voice was filled with his exaggerated resignation, an act purely meant to annoy the Boy Who Lived. "While I have my doubts you'll last a _moment_ in the Dark Lord's vacinity, the Headmaster is convinced that you will succeed."

Harry ignored Snape's tone, but he absorbed his words with reckless abandon. If there was any chance that he could hide his mind from the Dark Lord, Harry knew he would have to take it, even if it meant working with Snape to achieve his goals. Obviously Snape was capable of Occlumency, and Harry found it increasingly likely that Dumbledore would see this an opportunity for the two to bond - a laughable thought, but probably true nonetheless. Harry knew that Voldemort was one of the supreme sorcerors in the land before his downfall that Halloween night, and it wouldn't be easy reaching his level of expertise, even with the beneficial advice of an Occlumens who was equally as adept as the Dark Lord. He wondered if that was how Snape was able to spy for Dumbledore (_or Voldemort, _Harry inwardly seethed). His thoughts were broken by the voice of Dumbledore, who seemed to be gauging Harry's resistance to his proposal.

'"I understand," Harry said solemnly. While he was reticent to experience any extra lessons with his least favorite Professor, he couldn't deny that this was potentially a once in a lifetime opportunity. "Thank you, sir," Harry said, looking Dumbledore in the eyes. He ignored the slight tremor in his chest, an emotion he was beginning to recognize as a vestige of the Dark Lord's influence. "I know I'll need your help - _all of your help_," he added, glancing at Bill, "to get through this." Harry noticed Fleur smiling pleasantly, obviously pleased that he had decided to listen to the Headmaster, and he instantly felt better about the decision.

"This is a gift that has many benefits, my boy, but first and foremost among them is the supreme confidence you will have in your mental faculties. You must understand the importance of blocking Voldemort from your inner most thoughts, for he will ruthlessly exploit any weaknesses he perceives you have. You must make your greatest insecurities unknown, even to yourself, and at all times you will need to concentrate on exuding a calm, collected confidence. It is imperative you take this seriously," Dumbledore said, his grandfatherly exterior giving way to momentary austerity. It was obvious that he expected nothing less than Harry's full dedication to learning Occlumency, and Harry wasn't about to let him down.

"I considered another accomplished individual to teach you," Dumbledore said, pausing dramatically, "but he has enough to be getting on with already." The dark-haired Professor's face was unreadable when Harry turned to gauge Snape's reaction. Harry barely restrained the urge to cheer. "To ensure you will not be bereft of a proper educator, _I _will be teaching you, effective immediately."

Harry's eyes widened at the admission that the Headmaster would be giving him private instruction in Occlumency. His surprise gave way to steely determination to succeed.

"I have concerns that Voldemort will attempt to use you to spy on me; however, your need is too great to go unaddressed. We will move swiftly; doing naught would allow you to be susceptible to Voldemort's wildest whims, and if he were to try to possess you again, there is no guarantee that he would not succeed."

"He'll never succeed," Fleur assured him defiantly, her fingers running up the back of his neck and causing a pleasant shiver that felt out of place with all the strife he was feeling. "I promise you _zat_," she said, her French accent shining through.

"As you'd expect," Dumbledore chuckled, some merriment coming back into his voice, "that's a _worst case _scenario; as you'll be aware of his presence already, you should be able to drive him off if you concentrate on happy emotions. The method is not dissimilar to producing a Patronus; focus on something that brings you great joy." Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Dumbledore wink at Fleur, who had the faintest red tinge to her face for some reason. "If anything abnormal happens, it is my greatest wish that you come to one of us _immediately_."

The Headmaster gestured to McGonagall and Snape, but Harry knew he wouldn't willingly consult Severus Snape about his problems even if his own head was on fire. Their dedication to hating each other was one of the few things they had in common.

Of course, Snape had to get the last word.

"You must clear your mind of fear and guilt, Potter. It is quite reasonable to sustain both emotions given your ineptitude in relation to the Dark Lord's wealth of experience and the casual, _careless_ way you carry yourself in your _private_ life." Harry deemed that a low blow, even from Snape, and the glare the Potions master shot Fleur nearly had Harry leaping from his seat in anger. "So, _do try _to enjoy yourself, Potter. Until you can master your own mind," Snape said, the sarcasm rolling off of him in waves, "_happiness..._ is your key to defeating the Dark Lord."

While many of the students at Hogwarts were excited to see February 24th roll around, the morning of the second task came far too quickly for one Gryffindor in particular. January had progessed into February and he and the Headmaster still had not started an Occlumency lesson, though he promised one would come on the heels of the second task. Apparently, Dumbledore thought Harry's focus should be on the tournament, but Harry found himself doing anything but concentrating in the days leading up to the task.

"I'll see you by the lake," Fleur whispered, despite the Silencing Charms cast on his bed. Fleur had decided a pep talk was in order before the task, and she had chosen to visit him in the dead of night to give it. She pressed her plump lips against his and he moaned as she pulled away. The loss of contact accompanied a rising tide of distaste that he never quite could force away. "You're going to be fine in the Hall, right?"

"I'm not entirely hopeless," he whined, buttoning up the robes required for the occasion. Fleur was clad in a white dress, which was hiked up rather fetchingly and required an additional inspection before Harry would let her go. She laughed, the pleasant sound muffled by a quick kiss from Harry.

"I never said you were. You _know _what I mean," she chided lightly, her nose touching his and making his face tingle. The feeling of annoyance subsided, and then came back full strength as she stood and swept open the curtains. Neville, who was reading with his legs crossed on his bed, gaped at Fleur and Harry.

"Morning, Nev," Harry quipped, as Fleur straightened her attire with a grin. Neville clamped his mouth shut, blushing bright red and returning to his reading. The title _What To Do When You've Done it Wrong: Saving Your Potions_ jumped out at Harry; he supposed that Neville had just started reading the rather thick tome, as his confidence in Potions hadn't improved since day one and he was still prone to destroying a cauldron once a year.

"You still didn't answer my question," Fleur said, her mock glare aimed at Harry. The Boy Who Lived chuckled, waving away her concern.

"I'll be alright, Fleur. It's always harder without you, but I can manage it for half an hour, I think."

Apparently, that was all Fleur needed to hear, as she pressed a butterfly kiss against his cheek and bid him farwell, gliding out of the room with a soft smile on her face. Harry turned and saw Neville gleefully watching her bum, but rather than be angry, he nearly howled with laughter. Neville looked torn between dying of embarrassment and flinging himself out of the tower. He inched toward his wand, just in case Harry was angry Neville had been caught looking.

"I saw that," Harry said, barely keeping a straight face. "Are you checking out my girl, Neville?"

If anything, his face turned redder. "No!" he stammered, protesting his innocence. "She's just... it's hard not to look at her _sometimes, _'cause of all that allure stuff..._" _He trailed off when he noticed Harry was laughing.

Harry took pity on the boy, crossing the room and offering his hand. Neville eyed Harry carefully, unsure if Harry wouldn't try to break his arm.

"There's nothing I should be worried about, is there?" Harry tried to pose as intimidating, but his earlier laughter gave him away. Neville smiled, his earlier uneasiness wearing off. "Put 'er there," Harry said, still holding his hand out for Neville to shake it.

"I hope you don't think I'm actually touching _that hand_," he said, making a face.

Harry laughed, and he let Neville go back to his reading. He was pretty sure Neville wouldn't tell anyone about Fleur being in the dorm, and he appreciated his friend's discretion more than he'd ever know. He thought of Rita Skeeter, who would surely have a field day with his private life once she realized two Triwizard champions were dating.

Harry went about grabbing his things, getting ready to go down to breakfast. He wore his best trainers (cast-offs from Dudley), a slightly too small tank top (that he thought showed his rather well defined muscles), as well as his only bathing suit (a maroon pair that almost matched Gryffindor's colors). Just before he was set to go downstairs, Harry donned his Invisibility Cloak; he knew he would be stopped on the way to breakfast and he hoped to evade the countless students he correctly assumed would be trying to throw him off his game before the task.

Students were seemingly streaming through the halls, and he instantly knew it was going to be tough sliding past all the bodies without being noticed. He took his time, and more than once he had to go out of his way to avoid crashing into someone rushing down the hall. By the time he had reached the Great Hall, his odd path through the school had landed him at the rear of a band of Slytherins, and he was fortunate enough to listen in on Draco Malfoy bragging about a plan to sabotage him before the second task.

"He thought it was funny pinning the trophy room on us," Draco said, scowling. "Let's see how he likes it when we _turn the tables on him_."

There was scattered laughter as Draco swept into the hall proper, and Harry stood in the entry way in silence for a moment, pondering how best to address the situation. In the end, he decided not to sit in his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. He figured what the blonde boy had planned would be embarrassing, but not overtly cruel, so he resolved to sit in a different area of the hall just to see how Malfoy reacted right before it happened. It was likely that sitting at another table would draw a few raised eyebrows, but he could always pass it off as visiting a friend if anyone asked questions. Fleur wasn't going to be there, as she preferred not to eat before such adventurous pursuits, so Harry wasn't too concerned with his decision to occupy the Ravenclaw table.

Under the cloak, his fellow students' conversations were muted, but that didn't keep him from picking up some vital information as he stood outside the hall. Apparently, some students noticed the massive stands which had popped up overnight on the shore of the Great Lake, and he found that many of his wildly-inventive classmates expected a naval battle as part of the day's festivities.

Of course, Harry had discovered the secret of the golden egg weeks in advance (albeit with Fleur's assistance) so he knew that the resident mermaid colony, as well as many less civilized creatures of the lake, would be tasked with holding hostage someone that he cared about. He was slightly worried about who had been chosen in his honor, but he found solace in the fact he and Fleur had a good, teamwork-based plan for the task.

After lengthy discussions in the Headmaster's office on the night he had almost been possessed, Fleur had slowly walked him back to the hospital wing, where he found blissful silence. Hermione and Ron had returned to the hospital wing shortly after dinner, bringing Harry a warm plate that he nearly leapt out of bed to reach, but they were nearly as tired as Harry, especially Ron. He knew that both of his friends felt uncomfortable being in Fleur's presence for long periods (and Ron's inability to fully control his reaction to her allure was beginning to grate on Harry's nerves) so he politely told them both to get some rest. With his hunger finally satiated and his friends finally absent, Harry began to drift into inevitable slumber and Fleur kissed him on the forehead before joining Ron and Hermione in exiting the infirmary.

"You need time to understand all of this," she said, just minutes before she left. "I'll be here for you when you decide what you want to do."

That night, they considered themselves fortunate that they had been given plenty of time to intimately discuss Harry's new private instruction with the Headmaster, but in the weeks that followed, Fleur was left thinking that Harry seemed hesitant to breach any of his other problems.

The Boy Who Lived was particularly quiet about his life before Hogwarts, and Fleur correctly assumed that his Aunt and Uncle had been very hard on him. There was some occasions when he shied away from contact (though, admittedly, there were others where he craved _further _contact) and he was very quick to clam up when she asked about certain scars she found when navigating his body. She wanted to breach the subject but, from the things she had heard about Harry from Hermione and Ron, he wouldn't be forthcoming with any details even if she asked him outright. In a way, Fleur was afraid of their sudden dependance on one another; she found it equal parts distressing and exciting that she was becoming as reliant on Harry as he was on her.

For his part, Harry found himself feeling a lot worse about his situation when Fleur wasn't around. Even now, he had to force himself to face the students in the hall, and he realized belatedly that, despite what he told Fleur, he _wasn't _prepared for the attention of the school. _Strange_, he thought sarcastically. _She used to make me jittery when she was around, and now I can't calm down without her._

His reverie was broken when the doors of the Great Hall opened in front of him; a fervent discussion about his potential victory in the second task followed, coming from the mouths of a long line of witches leaving breakfast to head down to the lake, and Harry considered himself lucky that he was still wearing his cloak. After they passed, he covertly stuck his cloak into his robes and swiftly stepped into the hall.

His sudden entrance produced a cacophony of cheers from the Gryffindors and more than a few jeers from the other houses, mostly Slytherin, who were closest to the door. "Hey, Scarhead! Good luck making it through the task," Blaise Zabini was yelling, a sarcastic smile on his dark face.

Harry noticed Malfoy smiling along with his companions, and when the boy's cold grey eyes came up to meet his own, Draco's smirk became slightly predatory. The moment ended when Malfoy turned away to speak to Pansy, and Harry frowned, considering the conversation he had overheard outside the hall. Beside him, Millicent Bustrode was giving Harry a death glare, but he inwardly laughed; he wasn't a cruel person, but getting the Slytherin students in trouble after the Yule Ball had been one of the highlights of the night.

"Hope you know how to swim, Potter!" Theodore Nott jeered, causing half his table to erupt in laughter.

"Better than you, I bet," was Harry's muttered reply, though he had no real confidence in his swimming abilities. Fortunately, Gillyweed would give him fins the ability to breathe under water. Harry and Fleur had even tried a bit of it beforehand, and they took a swim to find the colony, which, by their reckoning, was nearly dead center of the massive lake. Harry had found their adventure rather tame in comparison to some of the things he'd seen at Hogwarts, but Fleur was a natural swimmer and judging by how the spent the last quarter of an hour underwater, she _really_ enjoyed the experience. Still, they knew Grindylows and sea serpents could launch an attack at any point after the starting gun, and for that reason, he and Fleur decided to stay together to watch each other's respective backs. In his own opinion, the first task had been far more dangerous than the second, but he was well aware he could be getting over-confident. He kind of felt like a cheater for doing next to nothing to actually answer the riddle of the egg, but he counted his blessings that he had a concrete plan with a high likelyhood of success.

"Don't worry about them," Ginny called. "They don't know a _champion when they see one_!" she yelled, her voice louder than the boisterous cries of the Slytherins. Harry came to stand by the redheaded girl, giving her a smile for her efforts. A blast from the high table, produced from Snape's wand, left the Slytherin's dissolving into laughter and the rest of the hall reeling in shocked silence. Ginny, however, ignored Snape to watch Harry with confusion, noticing that he remained upright rather than taking a seat. "Something wrong?"

"Not yet," Harry said, his eyes on the Slytherin table. Nott was giving him a dirty gesture that Harry swore Snape cracked a smile at. "You might want to move further down the bench," he whispered to Ginny, deliberately being vague. "I'll see you later." Ginny stared at his back as he passed the Gryffindor table, and he ignored Ron, who asked him where he was going. Eyes from all corners of the hall watched his slow progression to Ravenclaw, and Harry decided halfway over that he'd sit with a familiar-looking blonde girl who seemed dreadfully lonely and thus had her attention solely on a bagel when he approached. "Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked her, waiting to see her reaction.

She looked up once, but her eyes quickly fell back down to her bagel. She tenderly smeared cream cheese across it with a knife, smiling lightly. "Harry Potter," she said, ignoring his question. "Thank you for the kiss you gave me; the blibbering humdingers haven't been silent in _years_."

Rumors had been flying about Luna being strange, and her butterbeer cap necklace and raddish ear rings did nothing to detract from that well-earned image. Still, Harry sensed she was being deliberately obtuse and he doubted _any_ Ravenclaw girl was lacking intelligence. He reckoned the social structure of her house (where she was assuredly confined to the bottom) had forced her to cleverly evade her classmates' harsh words with off-putting words of her own. Harry redoubled his efforts to be kind, gracing her with the same smile he usually reserved for his best friends. She was a nice girl, and it wouldn't hurt others to treat her like a human for a change.

"I'm glad to be of service," he dead-panned, "but I've got to tell you I was surprised. It's not often that girls I don't know give me a kiss."

"I don't see why," she said, her foggy blue eyes rising to meet his own. "From what I've heard, you were kissed by a few different girls that night, so it's not all that surprising another would pop up."

Harry conceded the point. "True, but I knew all of those girls by name. You, I haven't had a chance to meet." He put out a hand to shake. "Harry Potter," he announced, mindful of the bewildered students watching their conversation.

He half-expected another confusing or evasive comment, but instead she offered her name and a tiny-looking hand. "Luna Lovegood," she said, a mouthful of bagel, "but then, you already knew that, didn't you?" At his stunned look, she smiled. "I believe your friend Seamus asked me on a date once he found out I had," she lowered her voice, "_kissed you_. I think he hoped I would kiss him too. " She giggled, the sound out of place with the eyes of the hall on their backs. "I told him no, of course - I may be lonely, but _ew_, Seamus?"

He stifled the urge to laugh; he quite agreed with her estimation of Seamus, but he belatedly realized he had been gossipping with the boy about kissing Luna - it had been unintetional, of course, but she didn't know that. His plate was ignored in favor of tapping his fingers on the table nervously. "It might have come up," he conceded, tugging at his collar. "I didn't know your name and-"

"It's alright, Harry. If you say you didn't tell Seamus to come see me, I believe you. You're too nice not to believe." She munched on the bagel, looking thoughtful. "Crunchy," she decided.

Harry couldn't recall confessing anything to her, but she seemed to take him at his unspoken word, so he let the matter drop.

"Can I try one?" Harry asked, tentatively reaching for a bagel. "I don't think I can eat much today. I think I'm too nervous to keep it all down if I do," he admitted, chuckling weakly. "I thought I was ready for the task, but now, I think I'd rather go back up stairs and have a lie in."

Luna passed him the bowl. "You're covered in Wrackspurts, Harry Potter," she said, nodding sadly. Harry made a show of checking his sleeves, which were unsurprisingly free of... well, anything. Unperturbed by this fact, Luna pressed forward, laughing lightly. "They feed off of our appetites, you know, making our stomachs upset." Then, she gave him a bright smile. "Don't worry; you'll be right as rain as soon as you eat this."

Inexplicably, that made him feel better. "You're right," he said, taking a bite. "Thanks a lot, Luna."

She shrugged. "Thanks for talking to me."

"It won't be the last time," he said, but his words were muffled by the sound of an explosion as a blue light raced across the hall and smashed into their food. Harry immediately feared the worst, and pulled his wand to defend himself as he felt the blast push him backwards. He managed to stay seated at the Ravenclaw table with some difficulty, but the damage was done. The bagel Harry had just taken a bite of, as well as half of the food in his general area, was now plastered to his face, clothes and the other exposed parts of his body. Eggs fell off of his cheeks and the smell of citrus filled his senses, owing to his glass of orange juice landing on his head with a thick thump.

To make matters worse, Luna had suffered almost as bad as Harry; her hair was matted with syrup, and a particularly doused pancake rested on her shoulder. Most of the students had been giving them a wide berth and the more brazen Ravenclaws were openly jeering them by the time Harry processed what had happened. He was clenching his teeth in rage, angry with himself for expecting an attack on the Gryffindor table rather than one on his food itself.

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table to find Malfoy just putting his wand away, an eerily intense expresison on his face. The blonde boy quickly flashed Harry a sadistic smile, and his friends began congratulating him for his well-cast curse; Harry recognized the blue spell as the _Expluso _curse, meant to cause anything it came into contact with to explode. Fortunately, his curse had only touched the food in front of him rather than the table itself, but Harry was forced to wonder if Malfoy had been intending on simply embarrasing him or if his purpose was seriously injuring him. He doubted his nemesis was capable of destroying the whole table, but if he had, there was no doubt Harry would have been incapacitated for the second task.

"_I'll get you back_," he mouthed to Malfoy, who smiled reflexively as the increased volume in the hall gave way to another blast from Snape's wand. There was nothing he could do about Malfoy's curse now, but he inwardly swore revenge. Despite knowing about Malfoy's attempt beforehand, the attack had completely shifted his focus from the task to how to get back at Draco. After a few moments to compose himself, he remembered who he was sitting with. "Are you alright?" he asked, turning to give most of his attention and concern to Luna. In his experience, girls became volatile when things like their clothing and their hair were ruined.

However, he was flabbergasted when he saw Luna's face; the blonde, who was usually quite calm and collected for a crazy person, positively roared with raucous laughter, tears streaming out of her blue eyes and the largest smile he'd ever seen painted on her face. "That was _brilliant_!"

Then, he started laughing too, and pretty soon the two of them were regaling each other with stories of the other's expression just after the explosion. "You should have seen your face," Luna said, giggling lightly. She had combed most of the eggs out of her hair, and Harry used a few cleansing charms Hermione had taught him to rectify the situation. "I've never seen someone so surprised and angry; not even the landlord when Dad told showed him the new Gurdyroot garden-"

"Well, we can't all be graceful under pressure like you," he said, giving her a mock bow that brought some more egg crashing down to the table. "Nor can I be that loud when I laugh," he said, shoving the girl lightly.

"Hey!" she said, acting scandalized, though her smile gave her away. Harry just snickered behind one syrup-stained hand. "I'm plenty graceful," she said, refuting his claim. "Watch this," she said, narrowing her eyes at the Slytherin table. She leaned back as if trying to do a backflip, despite her feet still being trapped underneath the table; just as quickly, Luna shot back up to her proper posture and launched a relatively whole bagel across the hall before turning her eyes back to her plate. The bagel connected with the top of Millicent Bulstrode's head, and the big girl turned and reflexively slapped Theodore Nott off of the bench; the hall again rang with laughter and, of course, Snape's retaliatory spellfire.

Luna turned to Harry and whispered, "I was aiming for Malfoy. _Damn_."

"If I have to do this again I'm taking five points for every transgression!" Snape was saying, his eyes settling on the back of Harry's head. "Get yourself going, Potter-"

Non-plussed, Harry smiled. The task would start in about thirty minutes, and many of the students were already filing out to head down to the lake. Harry decided to do so as well, and bid Luna a fond farewell before he left. "Let's be friends," he told her, holding a hand out for the prim girl to shake. She did, smiling broadly.

"We already are," she enthused, her cheeks slightly red. "Come eat with me anytime."

He promised to return and made his way out of the hall. The second task was about to begin, and while he'd have plenty of time to wreak havoc on Slytherin's students in the near future, he forced himself to keep his thoughts on his plan with Fleur. As he walked, he received the jeers from students wearing _Potter Stinks _badges, shrugging them off with little difficulty. He started to smile as he walked, his confidence shining despite their rude comments; Harry couldn't stop them from insulting him, but he _could _break their hearts in the competition.

_-end of Chapter Fifteen-_

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><p><em>AN: I edited this Chapter on 3/17/2014 to make a few things clearer. No big changes._


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